And then there was none

We sat on this couch in the store, having our first real conversation about the relationship, what we wanted, where we thought it was going, how we'd handle finances, and all those things. The couch was comfortable, the words came comfortably, and we just sat and talked. In his lounge room, on that couch, is where I'm sitting now.

We had a running joke that it was so big that we could both lie outstretched on it, and not touch each other, and we'd demonstrate to anybody who made the mistake of commenting on it to us. Of course, at the time, we took up hardly any space at all, because I was usually sitting almost on him.

Lately though, we couldn't have been further apart - physically and emotionally. The hardest thing for me has been getting my head around the fact that this amazingly wonderful, warm person became insensitive, hurtful and detached.....and I still haven't determined which is the real him.

I know the surface 'why' of it, but I don't think I'll ever discover the deeper 'why' he changed.

In about an hour, I'll be closing the door - literally - on something I thought was enduring. I thought I'd found my person, my place, my purpose.

This last week has been strange. I've barely shed a tear. I've been dealing with it by staying angry, defiant and indignant. But now, as I contemplate closing that door and perhaps never being within these walls again, never sitting on this couch again, it's starting to hurt. Badly.

I know I tried. I know I did all I could. I know this is about him, not me. I know I'm worthy of better treatment. That doesn't change how I'm starting to feel in this moment.

(Amidst all of this, I have to stop to thank Ian for taking time out to distract me for a couple of hours today. I appreciate it, truly. You made me feel better for a while, and for that, I'm grateful.)

As I moved the last of my things into my new place today, I looked around and saw 'me' everywhere. My things. Things that have been packed away in boxes for almost a year. Things that give me a sense of having some sort of history (even though the histories of most of those items ended after a move or a breakup of some sort). So I stood in the middle of all those things that are 'me', but I didn't feel me. I felt numb.

Autopilot kicked in for me a while ago, if I'm going to be honest with myself. It's been my protection from the pain I know is yet to come.

I just have to get through tonight. I don't think I have as many distractions as I need and that worries me. I just realised I don't even have a knife and fork so I can eat. They're still in my storage.

Anyway, if I keep rambling any longer, I'll have to deal with a face to face confrontation on my way out and I know that will bring me completely undone, so I better get up, walk to that door and close it while there's nobody here to witness me.

Thank you so much to everyone who's emailed, called, sent text messages or generally given me support this weekend (well, the last couple of months actually). I couldn't do this without your help.

I'll post more tomorrow.