It’s been 5 months. 5 months ago today he left me. No wonder I’ve been having such a sad day–it just hit me.
I’ve been thinking a lot about him lately. How he’s treated me, how he’s been inconsiderate of me, how he’s disrespected me. It makes it easier for me to understand that I was in love with someone who maybe never even existed. Or, maybe he did. But it’s clear to me now that he doesn’t exist within my realm of perception anymore. I still long for who he was, and I miss the things we had, but I’m learning daily how much these things are lost to me now, and how I can never find them in such a person again.
It’s time I find myself in this place. In this city, in this mind, in this body… in this apartment. This apartment that I shared with him and loved him in.
I’ve already started. I’ve made some new memories with my girls (my kittens). I’ve bought some new furniture, I’ve moved some old furniture. I’ve really tied my place together with an electric firplace I bought. My place feels… safe, and warm again. Without him, I am still safe and warm.
I have this memory from many years ago. My grandma was visiting us for Christmas, and my brother was entertaining her in the living room. The fireplace was going, he was playing with the record player, the lighting was soft and embracing, and I was in his room playing Grand Theft Auto. (Way to ruin the ambiance of my memory, hey?). Actually, this memory is very important to me, and I have many others like it. I had this sense of overwhelming peace and love for where I was and the people who were around me. I remember looking at every detail–every reflection of light, every shadow, every sound–and I remember falling absolutely in love with all of it.
I had that the other night. My fireplace was put together, the lighting was perfect, I was mapping out where I’d put my new area rug and coffee table, and I just felt at home again. I felt like this place I am in, this place where I’ve felt so much heartache and pain, was finally mine.
I found my home.