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I signed off on the condo, today, it is now entirely the ex's possession and responsibility. The very last thing I shall get from her is a check for my half of the joint account, and that should be within a week. I'm closing the joint credit card tonight.
It's over.
I cried myself to sleep last night, because of today. Whether I wept out of sheer exhaustion, out of pernicious grief, for some bitter joy, or from achieving plain, simple relief, I don't know. I do know that I felt 'give me my life back'. Over a year's worth of agony is finished.
Not that I won't hurt in the next months, the next year, to come. No longer am I so naive as to try and believe otherwise. I have been broken down, torn open, and taken apart, so much in the past year, and half of that was deliberately my doing. I don't think I could live with myself otherwise, now. But the constant reminder of what had been, is over.
There is much ahead to do. My life is badly out of whack, right now.
Financially--it'll take a year or two. Not so hard, just needs diligence and discipline.
Emotionally--I now have an evolving process towards attaining stability and health. I'm already healthier and more capable now that I've been, oh, likely ever.
Mentally--oddly, this may be the most difficult. My mental, ideal self is shattered.
All of the things that I had incorporated, over so many years, into 'who I should be', they are all gone: fruitful academic career, love of my field, a happy marriage and family. Childishly simple, yes, and I'm leaving out the details, but aren't those what many people ask for? I am left with my core emotional self and a whopping pile of knowledge.
I don't have a direction, yet. I don't have a plan, for the first time. I don't even have a clue, to be honest. At least I like who I am, at heart.
But, given that I'm just shy of 30, I've got time. After burning so bright, so early, for longer than many, I only need to be patient with myself. For as fallen and as burnt-out as I am, yet may I grow anew.
I don't feel hope, just yet, but I understand that it'll come to me. Not tomorrow, maybe not next month, or next year, but I will have hope again.
For now, I will do what I always have done in my rough times. Keep moving, inexorably forward. I can't really go anywhere else, now, can I?
It's over.
I cried myself to sleep last night, because of today. Whether I wept out of sheer exhaustion, out of pernicious grief, for some bitter joy, or from achieving plain, simple relief, I don't know. I do know that I felt 'give me my life back'. Over a year's worth of agony is finished.
Not that I won't hurt in the next months, the next year, to come. No longer am I so naive as to try and believe otherwise. I have been broken down, torn open, and taken apart, so much in the past year, and half of that was deliberately my doing. I don't think I could live with myself otherwise, now. But the constant reminder of what had been, is over.
There is much ahead to do. My life is badly out of whack, right now.
Financially--it'll take a year or two. Not so hard, just needs diligence and discipline.
Emotionally--I now have an evolving process towards attaining stability and health. I'm already healthier and more capable now that I've been, oh, likely ever.
Mentally--oddly, this may be the most difficult. My mental, ideal self is shattered.
All of the things that I had incorporated, over so many years, into 'who I should be', they are all gone: fruitful academic career, love of my field, a happy marriage and family. Childishly simple, yes, and I'm leaving out the details, but aren't those what many people ask for? I am left with my core emotional self and a whopping pile of knowledge.
I don't have a direction, yet. I don't have a plan, for the first time. I don't even have a clue, to be honest. At least I like who I am, at heart.
But, given that I'm just shy of 30, I've got time. After burning so bright, so early, for longer than many, I only need to be patient with myself. For as fallen and as burnt-out as I am, yet may I grow anew.
I don't feel hope, just yet, but I understand that it'll come to me. Not tomorrow, maybe not next month, or next year, but I will have hope again.
For now, I will do what I always have done in my rough times. Keep moving, inexorably forward. I can't really go anywhere else, now, can I?
