There are a lot of things you immediately have to face when separated. The first is sleeping, or trying to, sleep alone. Not only was my husband gone, but so were my pets. My home suddenly did not feel like home and every time I even sat on our bed, I would break down and think of all the memories we shared. All the sex we had, movies and funny Youtube videos we watched and all the times he held me in his arms replayed in my head over and over. I did not have my dog to invite up and lay with me or my cat staring at me.
I would put on his shirts (the very few he left behind), grab the stuffed animal foxes he had gotten me, sprayed his cologne on them and held to them for dear life. Usually I did not fall asleep on the bed without the assistance of alcohol. Some nights I would sleep on the couch after taking my Xanax. Other nights, most nights, I just did not go to sleep at all.
I could not find it in me to sleep with anyone else. The thought of anyone else lying in my husbands spot in our bed made me sick.
My family, who I had not really been close to during the duration of the marriage, often invited me to come visit an hour and a half away. I knew I could have left the apartment, but the discomfort was so strong I would break down, actually more like have full blown panic attacks. My family member have their own problems that make a divorce at 21 look like nothing so I tried to suppress how bad things were. After about three weeks I stopped spraying the cologne and sometimes I left the stuffed animals on the other side of the bed. That is all the improvement I have made so far.
I move in two days and I will have a new bed, but I know things will still be hard, if not harder. Will I still run to the old apartment and sleep here for the last few weeks I still have access to it? I am giving him the furniture because I am a student, when will he take it? Am I going to fall apart when I suddenly don’t have access to the bed we shared so many nights together in? I really am scared, and every night is an absolute challenge and every morning is a surprise that I am still here. I don’t feel like I am living, I feel like I am functioning like a wind up toy.
I am taking the old Walmart quilt with me that we had on our bed and putting it on my new one. I don’t know if that is healthy or not, I just know I am doing the best I can. I don’t know how I am supposed to call a new place home. Even if it’s unhealthy… I still need pieces of him, of us… but it makes me feel like I will never be okay.