I keep failing you. It has been an odd week.
The day I wrote my last post, someone died at the conference’s cocktail reception thirty minutes later. One of the lawyers just dropped dead, literally. I am not quite sure what to think of that, but the reminder of Memento Mori continues to echo in my brain. After that came four nights of heavy drinking and almost no sleep, coupled with conference activities like falconry and bunker tours, and I flew back from West Virginia a shell of a human being. I woke up several times a night with heart palpitations, major anxiety, and dread. You name it. Last night I woke up at 3:30 a.m. in the arms of my lover, my heart racing, convinced I was going to choke.
I know what it is. I am waiting for my ex to send me his initial spousal support number, and after more than two weeks of radio silence, the waiting is making me incredibly anxious. I’m trying to brace myself for the emotional toll of negotiating what is essentially a business deal in the middle of a divorce. To be honest, I’m scared. I’m also ashamed, because my parents and I are still roped in this bad situation somehow. I wish this could all be behind me already. My body can’t relax. It is beyond exhausted, an exhaustion I haven’t felt in a long while.
And yet, yesterday I celebrated with my best friend’s family, and it was amazing. My parents are flying in from France in two days, and tonight I’m making shepherd’s pie for four. I am so tired, yet I feel so full, as if my life is magic and, at the same time, weighed down by the gloom of divorce, spousal support, and an ex who lives four blocks away in a city as big as Los Angeles.
Every day, I try to remind myself why I left. Some days it is really hard to remember, and I feel guilt and shame for feeling confused. I don’t believe he did anything with intention or purpose anymore, and I failed to see how deeply he was struggling with his mental health. Still, I hold on to the memories of fear, pain, and distress. I hold on to them so I won’t forget.
Somehow the brain tricks you into remembering the good: the good times, and the good qualities he has, because despite his controlling, anxious behavior, he does have really good qualities. So I remind myself of how my body reacted to him: the constant fight-or-flight, the enormous pressure and anxiety, my racing heart, the stomach problems, the actual physical pain. I was not laughing much anymore, loosing sleep – feeling incredibly depressed and hopeless. I felt utterly dead inside. As my mom put it, “the light in my eyes was extinguished.”
I don’t know what to make of these conflicting feelings. Grief is strange. Seeing him walking our dog the other day really hurt. I miss her. I miss our life as a trio. I miss certain moments with the three of us dearly, and I miss her so much.
I’m also frustrated, because I know some people in our lives think I’m mad, or completely crazy, for leaving him overnight. I fight that feeling every single day. I am not mad. I was scared, riddled with fear, anxiety, and apprehension, and, funnily enough, I still am.
