Entering month 6 of being separated from my wife (basically my ex, never going back). Life is still very good and a whole lot healthier. She found herself a new job and still seems to be holding it all together, even taking good care of her husky which is a huge relief to me (I considered taking that crazy dog with me when leaving out of fear that it would be ignored). Interestingly, she started dating again already (bumped into a guy with the same RL name as myself) and her laser-like focus on me (hoping to get me back) has been waning. The bittersweet is seeing her start to move on. She was writing goodnight texts to me every day for like 5 months straight and now that rarely happens. That is a pretty big development in her moving on (as small as it may seem to those on the outside). And she seems happy and relatively stable, which is also a good sign.
I have had a lot of good friends in my life, most of which have disappeared into the twilight of history. I really don't have any contact with anyone from the first few decades of my life and barely have anyone I stay in contact with from my last educational bout or previous jobs. I think this is normal for people, but it still feels like being forgotten or discarded. Hence the bitter part of the bittersweet. I am glad to be out of my latest relationship and to see the unshackled freedom ahead, but I will still miss being loved so deeply, however much abuse and unhappiness that circumstance caused. Not to equate my bad relationship with those who suffer life-threating circumstances; I can see, however, one of the insidious reasons why escape can be hard.
Edit: Oh, and I just saw an Instagram post of her selfie with the new me at a concert... so there's that. Again, makes everything smoother hopefully. I got out and there is hope.
This post has been edited by Gust Hubb: 09 July 2023 - 07:00 PM