Breaking free isn’t the hardest part – well, at least it wasn’t for me. It was hard to leave my husband all alone, to leave my friends, to leave many sentimental belongings behind.
But the part that’s really hard is choosing freedom. It was weeks – actually, probably months — before I could embrace that I could read as I chose, go for walks as I wa able, sing (off-key!), play the keyboard, not scour out the sink every day – and it was okay. No yelling, no name-calling, no accusations, no criticisms.
It’s foreign and just kind of weird.
I’ve had a series of illnesses pop up, including an issue with panic attacks, and my doctor thinks that the 1-2-3 of it all happening one thing right after the other is just my body finally realizing that it doesn’t have to be in fight or flight mode anymore and things that probably have been becoming issues gradually are now screaming to be attended to.
Not gonna lie, I do miss my husband. The times when we were companionable and getting along. I don’t miss the other 90% of the time. Going No Contact has not been a perfect process. There’s a grief around our separation that is reminiscent of my first husband’s death.
November 1 is officially one year in my new place. I’m getting better at choosing freedom – getting out, going places, doing what I want, sleeping on my body’s schedule, doing the things that I can in order to try to manage my health issues. I haven’t made any friends here yet, but I’m going to push my introvert self to start getting out and trying to be social. I think I just needed this first year to heal. That sounds kind of dramatic, but feels right.
Now I’m embracing freedom and I can’t wait to see what the next year will look like.
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