Mourning the Loss

I am not someone who leaps forward to embrace change. Especially big ones. I am still sad, crying at unexpected moments, mourning the loss of what Rene and I used to have, and breaking down at the idea of splitting our lives, our silverware, our "go to Europe"money (to pay off our joint house credit card) our bookcases and books, the Christmas tree ornaments, all the little things which must be taken care of when one household becomes two.
 
"Are you sorry," a friend asks, "do you want her to stay?"
 
No, I am not sorry, and I do not want her to stay. It is time to split, past time perhaps, but the love I have for her has not dried up and blown away just because we need different kind of lives. In the past I would eat my way through painful times, stuffing the pain down with toast and honey, mint chocolate chip ice cream, sugar cookies. Food soothed and pacified, comforted and filled the aching hole.
 
Now I am letting the pain rise. I know I will not die of this kind of pain, but it catches me unawares. I am driving down the road to a new doctor's appointment, trying to focus on my top three issues, and suddenly I am sobbing so hard I have to pull off the road, because I realize I cannot put Rene down as next of kin anymore.
 
Rene has begun to look at condos, and I weep as she talks about them. Our hairdresser asks how she is and I'm crying again, he is a member of the community and is sad, too. Plus, I will probably have to change hairdressers because he is good therefor expensive. I go to tell a neighbor, and cannot stop the tears from flowing even as I tell her it is best for both of us. And I know it's true.
 
I see a lot of irony in the situation. The gastric bypass, which I chose  because I want to live a longer, healthier life, is what pushed us over the edge. She is not interested in losing any weight, and has continued to eat as usual. And she has every right to do so. She wants to be free to go to buffets with friends without guilt at leaving me at home, bring home bags of Chinese food, containers of chips, things that must be gone from my life. 
 
She is also  very uncomfortable around free flowing emotions. I deliberately chose a path which could only lead to feeling my feelings, many for the first time. She is a stoic, and sees me as hysterical. I see me as freeing myself from all those stuffed feelings, and mourning as the first step.
 
There will be other steps to take as I move ahead with this journey. For of course I will move ahead. I haven't struggled through the last two years to abandon the trip now. I am working on looking ahead to some of the good things-I can arrange my furniture and altars as I want, have only what I can eat in the house, not have to check in with anyone if I want to stay out late, learn to remember our good times and no longer focus on the difficulties.

It just takes time.

Blessings, Margo