It’s been some time since my last update here. I’ve recently entered singlehood after a 17-year relationship. I’ll omit the painful details, but I’m open to sharing the insights I’ve gained since he departed our home.
Though this wasn’t my first breakup, it felt completely different. The echoes of past traumas resurfaced. In the beginning, it took a while for me to recover from the initial shock and work through the various stages of grief.
At first, he was the chef, and I relied on him for cooking and grocery shopping. Being catered to was enjoyable, but I didn’t anticipate the detrimental effect on my self-reliance. It left me feeling dependent, a condition I had always tried to evade. It’s something you don’t realize at the moment.
As time passed, I learned to function independently and I’m proud to say that I’m still standing strong.
A year and a half has passed, and I’m still in this house. I’ve been unable to sell it despite doing everything possible to prepare it. I feel it’s time to begin my new life, yet it seems the universe has different plans for me. I persist in journaling, and with every moment that passes, new insights reveal themselves to me. I remain patient, immersing myself in each revelation.
I’ve always understood that loss isn’t confined to death. Yet, the magnitude of loss I’m experiencing feels overwhelming. Nevertheless, I’ve come to understand that healing from my partner’s departure is perhaps necessary before I can start to move forward. As I downsize and transition to a new area, the life I once knew seems to be fading away continuously. I am ready and willing to embrace the act of letting go.
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