I’m still not over my marriage. Or The Mr.
That confession is probably more of a shock to me than it is to you.
I do not want to get back together with him. We’re still mutual on the belief that the bitter outweighs the sweet when it comes to us being together, and that we’re just not meant to be married to each other. There are things about him that I cannot live with and that he is unable or unwilling to change, and there are things about me that he cannot live with and that I am unable or unwilling to change. But knowing and understanding those cold, hard facts does not make me able to keep my stubborn feelings for him and the pain associated with the excruciatingly slow end of our marriage buried all the time.
Weeks go by where I don’t even think about it except to give thanks that I can come home to a quiet house and a sacred space of my own that he doesn’t often invade. I am happy not to have to do his laundry or pick up his dozens of water bottles left by the bed. I’m thankful to be able to have friends over without giving him notice. I’m happy to not fight about whether or not it’s ok for him to smoke inside the house.
But there are times when my alone-ness sinks into loneliness and I can’t help but miss his presence, the smell of his cologne after he’s left for work in the morning, his lap which made the perfect resting place for my feet, and his chest which made the perfect resting place for my face.
I know this will pass. I’ll cry myself to sleep for the next week or two and then he’ll say or do something that will make me sure that I hate him and thankful once again that he’s not around to pollute my environment. But it always comes back again.
What am I supposed to do with these feelings? Wait until they go away for good? How long will that take?
When my mother was here she told me that it took her years to get over my father. They divorced when I was still a little girl, maybe 5 years old. But she still loved him, through his relationships and hers, and hoped they’d get back together until I was 13 or 14. Is this what it’s really like?
I want so badly to move on. I want to love someone else, but, as The Consultant told me, I’m still in this relationship more than I realize or am willing to admit, and I don’t want to be living a double life. How do I get out of it and get over it?
When does the grieving stop? When will it not physically hurt? When will it be truly over? According to Charlotte, it takes half the time you were in a relationship to get over it, but I’m not sure if I can really count on the writers behind Sex and the City to get me through this. And I don’t have a trio of awesome gal pals and a Manhattan full of eligible bachelors to help distract me along the way either.
So you tell me, readers with real life experience. When? How? And what to do in the meantime?