A strange week ending

What a bittersweet day. R came with me to the funeral of my brother's father in law. And R realised it was probably the last time he would see my family (of whom he is very fond).Melancholy all round. Tears this evening.
And tomorrow I return to the scene of the announcement as I head to our house in France. I haven't quite allowed me feelings to emerge on this one- it could be a long week.

Imagining...

Because we're still living in the same house, I find it hard to imagine what the future will be like. If I can only tame the terrors of poverty and growing old alone, I might begin to imagine a new life.
It's pointless going over all that I will miss - the easy companionship, the laughter, knowing that there is someone who would do anything for me.
What will I gain:

• not having to check before accepting invitations
• doing things on the spur of the moment

Oh - in my head it felt like more :(

I was doing OK....

I was - I really was. I slept all night last night (except we only went to bed at 1am!), the awful, gnawing emptiness in the stomach hardly happens, the waves of despair are fewer. And then my darling sister-in-law asks how I am. And I fall apart.
I feel that I have let everyone down - the friends and family who love R will lose him because of me. And me, with my high view of marriage and now in a marriage that has failed. So sad, so, so sad.

Learning to live with it

Another gap between blogs. Every now and then I still get surprised by the emotion that overwhelms me, but                                      there sometimes goes a whole day without tears or fear.
I dread the first few months - but mainly because of the finances. I hardly dare admit it, but a part ofd me just wants to get on with it now. If it is inevitable (and it is) then maybe it is better to move, endure the pain and adjustment, and learn to get on with a new life.
Maybe - just maybe - there is a light and a hope that I couldn't even imagine a few weeks ago.........

A week is a long time....

So much has happened -how on earth do I process it all? The creeping realisation is that I'm losing my best friend. That the one person I thought loved me more than anything, who would do anything for me, doesn't (and probably hasn't for some time) love me.
It feels as though he's shedding me as fast as he can. And it shocks me and saddens me and upsets me.
And yet .... we talk, we laugh, we eat together, we do things together.
The tears continue to come - at times I am overwhelmed by the feelings of abandonment. I'm trying to face the reality by telling people - and then I've overwhelmed by their love and care.
I don't want to face the future. I want him to change his mind - but that's not on the cards.
I'm drowning in this vale of tears......... :(
.

Homeless

When it comes to it, I'm sure I'll have somewhere to live. But today it struck me that I no longer have a home.
A home is a place that keeps you safe, that is shared with love, a place where the storms of life can be weathered. And I no longer have that. France was our home. But now that's going to be unsafe as well.
I really can't see any future or hope. Today is not a good day.

Where do I live?

That is the question. Do I stay in pricey (but accessible property) in London or move out to cheaper stuff but with higher travel costs? It makes me physically sick to think that possibly 2/3 of my income will go straight on rent.
And of course - I don't want to go at all :(

On my own...

R is off on retreat this week. So I get to practice being on my own.
I used to really look forward to the odd days when he was away, a chance to do what I wanted. Now, just 4 hours in, it feels so bleak. I'm sitting here thinking that never again will there be someone who misses me when he's away. Never again will there be someone who looks forward to coming home to me. Never again will time on my own just be fun - it will be a life sentence.

21st January

That's the date. R came back (I want to say home, but home is where you feel safe and loved and I don't) with the news that he has found a flat - and he takes possession on 21st January. So quickly. I'm numb.
I'm glad in one way for him - it's a 2 bedroom flat, more than he thought he could afford. It looks lovely and he even has 3 people he knows in the area.
Where does that leave me? I shan't be able to afford as much in the areas I'm looking. I'm glad and sad and jealous and cross and sad. I'm exhausted.

No end of tears...

When on earth will the tears end? It feels as though I have none left - and yet they continue to come.
The letters arrived on people's doorsteps yesterday; today there have been the texts and phone calls. I am exhausted.
I woke again at 4am. Richard left at 6am to explore Reading as a place to live. My stomach sinks at the very thought of it. Will there ever be anything to look forward to again?

Dying 'young'

So I'm not really young. But I would welcome death. I have no suicidal thoughts (I'm not that brave) but I would not dodge death if it were presented.
It seems to me that life is about anticipating the future - thinking that there is something worth living for. It doesn't feel that way. Once R and I separate why on earth would I want to carry on? I love having him to talk to,to cook for, to be with. If there is no one to share life with, what's the point?
Sorry - a bit dark tonight.

Writing the letter

How on earth do you tell people that you are separating? I haven't found a form of words that sounds OK. And then there's the 'Why?' question that follows - and there's NO WAY I have the words for that :(
So we have written a letter to send to our closest friends. All I have to do is sign and send.
And I'm paralysed. I can't do it. I don't want to tell people - but I can't live in this semi-secret world.
Sign the letter, place it in the envelope, put a stamp on it, post it - and I can't.
That's why I'm on neat Gin tonight. Somebody please make this situation alright - please.

A confession....

Because it seems too much of an effort, I haven't bothered to shower today or wash my hair. I do it daily, so I don't think I'll offend anyone with my odour. I got dressed so that I could take him to the station (things may have ended between us but I still love him, live in the same house as him and we are very civilised about it all) and when I got back, I just hadn't got the energy to get undressed and into the rather ropey shower.
I KNOW I mustn't give up on myself,but right now the temptation to crawl into bed and stay there till I die is very strong.

Learning to rent

As if a lack of sleep, constant anxiety and nausea weren't enough, I now have to decide where I want to live for the next part of my life. Buying isn't an option - so renting (which seems such a drain of money) is what I have to do.
But where? It's too expensive here; I need somewhere that will be for years rather than months; and what happens to the furniture that won't fit????
I really can't put this off until the last moment, but I don't know where to start (and nor do I want to).

Dates

I'm sitting here feeling physically sick. He has suggested a date by which we leave this house. I can't get my head around it. It seems so soon- and how on earth do you pack a house, find a long-term let (in an area where you want to settle) and begin again?
Everything is moving too fast - it's a juggernaut that is bearing down on me. I feel as though I'm in free fall with no parachute or soft landing.
Is there anyone out there? Are you bothering to read this? Do you have anything to say to me?

Facing Facts

Oh God, Sunday night was awful. It was that 'we need to set a time scale' conversation. I don't want to set a time scale - I don't want this. A lot of tears, a lot of Bourbon consumed, very little sleep.
The financial implications keep haunting me.
And then I sit and look at what we have. It's not the big things - but the pictures, the objects, the things bought with (what I thought was) love. Neither of us will be able to afford a place where all these can be cherished. And I hate the idea of consigning them to the rubbish. Yet I know that when I die, no one will want to have to sift through them.
It is all so hard. I am tired, and weary, and worn out with tears.
But its worse for him. He doesn't cope with so little sleep, he isn't eating properly, his job is stressful (I wonder how much that precipitated all this....) and I worry about him. And he doesn't want me to worry about him. And yet I worry that his mental health is getting fragile.
I want a magic wand. I so want a magic wand......

A Parallel World

This is surreal. We live in parallel worlds. We wake up in parallel rooms, then converge on the routine we've had for 16 years of going to work, live our daily lives, return and eat together and return to parallel rooms.
Except he's not eating much, and that makes it all feel worse. I'm not quite sure why I continue to cook, except I have this weird feeling of guilt. No- I can't explain it, verbalise it, give any substance to it. I just feel guilty that I am the one who has let this marriage down; that I should  have known better.
And as I avoid talking, he is slowly (or maybe not so slowly) stripping everything away. Sofa cushions tat I lean against are no linger plumped; he refuses to close my bedroom (oh so recently it was OUR bedroom) curtains without my permission. Boundaries I do not want nor do I recognise are being erected.
And I daren't let myself think about the future - because I am so damn scared and insecure. He made so many promises which are unravelling; I believed so many things which it now seems were illusions that I couldn't see through.
OH HELL. I HATE THIS.

Cutting the ties

I'll admit it - I'm bemused. Less than a month ago I was blissfully unaware of the impending storm. I'm wrestling with the implications, still unsure how or whether to fight back.
But as far as he is concerned, the ties are being cut. Email addresses are being changed; boundaries are being drawn (he cleaned upstairs today - but wouldn't hoover our - I mean, my - bedroom).
Our marriage has had little spontaneity in terms of going out for the day - he's always had work to do, other calls on his time, pressure that would come from taking time off. Yet today, when I have been out working, he has trundled off, not returning till well after 9.
Maybe I should have insisted on more 'us' time. But it was easier to walk the road of least resistance.
And now I know that was wrong. Why didn't I see it before? How did we spiral to this so quickly (or is it only quickly in my mind?)?
I am so sad, so frightened of the future. I don't want to live without my best friend, the companion I love. But he doesn't want to live with me.

25 days in.....

Time and life have taken on the most surreal quality. Last night was ghastly.
When I got in, I went into his room, drew the curtains and turned on the light. Apparently that's crossing huge boundaries.
Have we really got to a point where what I thought was an act of kindness is seen as an invasion? Less than a month ago we shared a room, a bed, a life. He's disconnecting so quickly that I can't keep up with it.
Alone in my room, I howled. I thumped my my arm so hard that there are now bruises. Why? I guess I was trying to turn the searing emotional pain into physical pain. I just ended up with 2 lots of pain.
And then he came in and just sat with me as I cried. We talked through my tears. I must have got through at least a box of tissues.
We care for each other. He couldn't leave me to sob on my own. It would be easier if we hated each other, if there were recriminations hurled around. But there aren't.
And then this morning - after yet another disturbed night, with four hours sleep and a waking time of 4.45am - he brought me my usual cup of tea.
I want this to be a nightmare from which I emerge. But if it isn't, then I would welcome death.

I had no idea...

The end of a marriage is not something I thought would happen to me. Bit of a smug git, I suppose. Certainly a naive git.
And three weeks ago everything - in my eyes - was fine.
I had NO IDEA that on the second day of our holiday - in the house that was to be our retirement home - he was going to tell me that the marriage was over.
But he did. And I'm still trying to get to grips with how we got here.