Reminders come in droves daily. Even my soon-to-be wasband said to me last week, "It's been eight months. Why can't you move on?" Taken out of context you might think that I had gone crawling back to him asking to try again. Let me assure you, that was NOT the case. I was actually expressing to him that it wasn't a good time to talk because I was in "hater" mode and I didn't want to cause any friction between us. Better? Thought so.
The thing is, it was easy for him to move on. He took a weekend, packed what he wanted and moved into an empty apartment with newly steam-cleaned carpets and freshly painted walls. He walked away from the daily responsibility of hugging, communicating, listening, bathing, feeding, clothing his family and found himself alone with time to himself to process this vast amount of change. Wow! Now, if I wanted a fresh start that is certainly the way I'd do it given the option. But that wasn't my option. I, instead, was left with no job, a mortgage, and the daily grind of hugging, communicating, listening, bathing, feeding and clothing my family in a home still filled with memories of a marriage.
His comment really tossed me a curve ball. So I sat. And, I thought about it. This was my conclusion...I haven't moved on because I've had all of 68 days to myself inside of eight months to process the fact that we are no longer a family. I am a single mom trying to accomplish great things in my life like becoming a published author, and at this moment, hell, just re-entering the workforce. Sixty-eight days is not a long time to tackle very much on either of those fronts, forget the emotional mayhem.
So, as little Red went off to her father's this past weekend I took it upon myself to do some liberating. Liberating of space. I hired the man down the street (Tony, who is terrific BTW for anyone living here in Medlock Park) to help me go through the loads of crap down in the basement, clean out the crawl space, purge the soon-to-be's stuff from my life. What was a basement full of junk that needed to go is now a craft room, playroom, and extra living area with a couch and tv for watching movies in the darkest of dark rooms. Okay, so there is still a wall filled with things that need to be put in our next yard sale, but my power tools are separate from my hand tools, my screws no longer reside with my nails, and I know where all of those gifts I pre-purchased for birthdays and holidays are now. I even installed shelving at the laundry area to keep things neat and tidy. And, I got to use my screw gun, AGAIN! I love being a girl.
So, for all of you out there suffering the mourning that accompanies divorce, I say, "Liberate yourself!" Stop holding on to the stuff. Let it go. It's time for a fresh, clean start.
Thanks DannJ for kicking me in the ass. I sure needed it.
Until next time, I remain Unstoppable.