Today is my last day as a live-in wife. I’m wandering among my labeled boxes, gazing at the last things that need to be packed. Twenty-four hours from now I’ll be taping and sealing the boxes and getting ready for the movers to arrive.
Once I’m in my new apartment, I can take my time unpacking, plus friends have offered to help. I greatly look forward to having my people in my new space. Friends are critical to me. I have anxiety, sadness and a persistent feeling of is-this-REALLY-happening, but I’m mostly okay. I’m doing a lot of tapping and Rescue Remedy and I know it will all be okay.
With no kids, property, shared businesses, dependents or other legal/financial ties, this divorce is going quite smoothly in terms of red tape. With my incredible maturity and perspective (kind of joking, kind of not), I’m not feeling angry or betrayed, so look: no lawyers! We were only married five years, so we’re each just taking with whatever stuff we moved in with. It’s a remarkably stress-free divorce, considering. Still, there’s stress.
Update at 7:40 p.m: doing worse: sad, crying, really really hating this.