February 22nd

The 22nd was cold and drizzly.

It was my second day of moving my things.  When I got up I realized I'd have to wear the same clothes I'd worn the day before since I'd moved all my clothes to the new place. I dragged on my grubbies and got ready to keep on.

On the first trip of the day, my 13 year old daughter came with me.  She helped me carry some things in and then set to work hanging artwork.

She would move things around and then say "I'm feeling this here."  Then she'd fetch a couple of push pins to hang whatever she was placing.

When we were done I took her back home and I put more things in the car.  My good friend Chris was going to come help me in the afternoon with one of my 3 pieces of furniture.  I filled the time packing up containers, putting them in the car, moving them, emptying them and repeating the process.

While I was carrying my dresser drawers out, a couple of my son's friends were walking by.  One of them yelled "Hey, what are you doing?" 

"I"m moving."  I called back.

"Why?"  she asked me.

"Um, because I am."  I had no idea how to answer that. 

"Yeah, Will told us about it.  I'm sorry." 

I was flabbergasted.  This was the second child who had told me they were sorry.  One of my daughter's best friends had said almost the same thing to me the day before.  I had no idea what to say to them.  I just thanked them.

My friend arrived and we were able to take the small desk I'd be using as a vanity over in her car.  There was a surprising amount of space in the back of her little SUV.  She offered to help me with the other 2 pieces later in the week.  I accepted readily.  I needed all the help I could get. 

Once I had completed my trips for the day, I asked Scott if he would come help me with my router.  I had internet service set up to start that day, but I didn't know how to set up the actual equipment.  We'd take the kids and I'd buy everyone dinner afterwards.

The whole weekend had been uncomfortable for me.  Having the kids' dad in my new place was even more uncomfortable, I think for both of us.  The kids ran around while he got me online.  I thanked him and we went for something to eat.

After I delivered them back home, I loaded up one more time and got ready to go.

I kissed both the kids goodnight and headed out the door.

I'd created a fantasy where Scott and I would hug goodbye and cry and ask each other how we'd gotten here.  Of course, that didn't happen.   I told my children I'd see them the next day and I left.

I drove to my new house, to live by myself for the first time, thinking "I just walked out on my children." 

Once I was inside I got myself busy putting things away.  I was listening to a Pandora station while I sorted stuff out.  Then Fleetwood Mac's "Landslide" played.  I found myself standing in my new bathroom crying.  Not sobbing.  Not yelling. Just standing there with tears running down my face.

I stopped for the night. I took a shower.  I got into bed.

Eventually, I slept.  

February 21st

I stood in my new apartment.  Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a tiny kitchen and a living/dining room completed the space I would be occupying.

It had really lovely wood floors, new tiling in the bathrooms and a fireplace I couldn't use because there wasn't a hearth, just the wood floor.  But, I could put candles in it. New appliances were going to be delivered the next week. It wasn't huge, but it was perfect for what I needed. 

I'd labored by myself for the day, filling plastic containers, moving them, emptying them of the contents and taking the empty containers back to the house to fill again.  I'd moved smaller, lighter pieces of furniture.  The things I couldn't move by myself I would get help with later in the month.  I'd reserved a truck for the 15th of March, but I thought I might not have to use it if I could find a friend to let me use a van with the seats removed.  I had all of three larger pieces that would require help lifting and hauling up the stairs.

It was an upstairs unit, so I had vaulted ceilings.  This gave me quite a bit of wall space to hang my artwork.  I'd brought all of it with me.  It leaned against the walls and I shifted them around, figuring out where each one wanted to live.  I'd purchased a music player from Target that would play CD's, LPs, cassettes and the radio.  I had tossed all the cassettes I'd owned many years ago, but I still had a lot of records and CDs.  I still hadn't moved into the 21st century when it came to music storage.  I was happy with my round things.

I was listening to Janis Joplin and moving my pictures around.  This was going to be my home.  I could do with it what I liked.  I wanted it to feel like mine.

Then the phone rang and I learned my new bed was on the way.  I opened the front door and waited for the place I'd be able to rest to be delivered.

A new life

February 20th I was standing in the garage looking at a small pile of plastic storage containers and boxes of kitchen things I'd assembled over the last week.  I was getting ready to load them into my car because I was moving.

Not the entire family.  Just me.  I was the only one moving.

The Husband was no longer The Husband.  He was now the my kids' dad and my soon-to-be ex. 

I was getting divorced.  We had done this before, but I hadn't moved out and while paperwork had been filed, it hadn't been signed or finalized. 

Our attempts to patch things up for the sake of our kids hadn't been successful.  In fact, they'd been so unsuccessful the two of us had gotten into a physical fight.  All that frustration and anger and hurt had finally boiled over and we'd attacked each other trying to hurt the other one.  We'd yelled and screamed and cried and smacked.  Neither of us felt any better.

That same week we decided that we needed to separate.  Our relationship was unhealthy.  Unhealthy was an understatement.  I didn't think there was a word to adequately describe what was now between us.

I had stated that if I moved out, it would disrupt the children's day to day the least.  They were used to me being gone in the early mornings and their dad getting them off to school.  I would still be with them in the afternoons once I was off work. 

I was leaning heavily on my parents financially.  I was unable to express the amount of gratitude for their support. Without them I'd be renting a room with a shared bathroom.  I wouldn't be able to have the kids come visit me.  I'd have no privacy.  They'd agreed to help me while I got my feet under me.

There wasn't a big rush for me to relocate.  We didn't hate each other.  We were getting along fine, but it was uncomfortable and it was high time for me to leave.

We'd talked with the kids, a surreal experience since our son had guessed what was going on.  9 years old and he knew things weren't good between his parents.  This wasn't good for them.  This was no kind of example.  This was the right thing to do for everyone.

I picked up the first box and got ready to start my new life.