Yesterday was my birthday…59. I got lots of emails and calls and balloons. My son and his father came over with cake and cards. It was really a wonderful day.
Then my son’s dad told me that he got the eviction notice and has to vacate our (my former) home in 5 days.
Now, this has been a long time coming, and we both knew it was going to happen sooner rather than later.
However, the news of it…
With the exception of our son, our home is one of two crucial physical components that are keeping us in relationship. It is a powerful symbol of our coming together in partnership… our names side by side on paper. Our official sanctioned relationship.
When I left two years, three months, and thirteen days ago, I told my son’s dad that I was not closing the door to having a relationship with him, but I was closing the door to the relationship that we had created. To be completely honest, we decided that even though I would be physically leaving the relationship, our intention was to get back together (after we had worked out our crap).
In my mind, it was simple:
1. Work out crap
2. Move back home
3. Get my family back
Now, there’s not going to be a home to move back into. Maybe there isn’t a relationship to move back into either.
And maybe that is the best thing that can happen at this point. Could I really move back into that house and not see the ghosts of our former selves all over the place? Could I really move back into relationship and not just pick up my former self where I left off?
I honest to God don’t know.
What I do know is that I have allowed this turn of events take the wind out of my sails and deflate me like one of my birthday balloons.
I can barely keep my eyes open. I am, all of a sudden, seriously exhausted, so I am going to go close my eyes. Just for a while.
I promise; I will look at reality after my nap.
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