Astolfo

Two weeks ago I moved out of the home I shared with AH for 6 years, into my own separate apartment. Because his initial response was a mixture of rage and denial, and because I had only myself to worry about (no kids), it was (mostly) surprisingly easy for me to stay strong and focused in the time leading up to the move. There was so much to organize and keep up with, alongside a full-time teaching job; not that I wasn't grieving as well, but I kept going and was so sure of what I had to do. I didn't even waver when he broke down the night before the move, and begged me in tears not to leave him.

Now I'm in the new place - I've started decorating it the way I like; it's a lovely, welcoming space where I'm enjoying order and peace; I've even inherited a free piano from a friend (I used to play when I was younger, and have been meaning to take it up again for years)... So I should be counting my blessings - and I am, much of the time... BUT... there's a hollow in the pit of my stomach. It's not loneliness - it's a recurring wave of concern for AH, for the fact that for the first time since we met all those years ago, we haven't spoken in a week. It's the nagging questions about how he is doing, what he is feeling. Is he still angry, blaming me for "bailing" on him and being "fickle"? Does he still have no conscious idea of why I had to leave? Is he sorry? Is he in pain? Does he have any help? Is he safe? Did I betray him? Etc. etc. all mixed up.

I know this can probably be described as "codie quacking" - or perhaps it's a big fight between the old codie self and the new emerging one. But it still makes me weep. I'm not even sure if I miss him - I'm just so used to worrying for him and taking care of him, and so primed to feel I let him down when I stopped doing those things. It makes me weep to think how I hurt and disappointed him.

And I know he hurt and disappointed me too - and never acknowledged it - but my deeper feelings around that don't seem ready to come out yet. In that regard I'm numb. I keep thinking I "should" be angry.

Last time we spoke he was astonished and offended because I "didn't even seem to hope we would get back together," and I tried to explain I just didn't know at this point. I'm trying so hard to be honest with wherever I'm at - to push past the habit of saying "what will make him feel better" rather than "what I actually feel." Trouble is I can't figure out what I feel except this habitual concern/burden of care. And I'm terrified that I have mistaken pity for love for years and years and how f**cked up does that make me.

How come it's almost harder now - separate and safe in my own lovely space - than it was when I was still living in the midst of the addiction?

Thanks for letting me vent.