2 months. That is the amount of time it is taking to complete the separation. Separation, wow.

One would think that because we hadn’t married it would be simpler, but it is not. I am fighting for my security and that is worth 2 months of battle.

I moved here for love, and the possibility of a new future with all the things I was denied in my past. The future I pictured will not happen. I imagined it with him, the 2 of us building the empire. Living our days out in hedonism, growing grey and still finding a way to be with one another.

These past 2 months showed me that no, that future is not possible. Even if we some way figured out how to make some sort of reconnection, what we had is over. I cannot imagine how we might reconnect. My love will remain always but the trust and respect is obliterated. I can see a future down the line where sex might happen but relationship? nope

We should be able to wrap this up Friday.

So much of this hurts. What stings in this moment is his resistance to doing right by me. He is clinging to his ability to ‘control’ me, so much so that he won’t show up for an appointment tomorrow. He said he had a wedding and I wonder if it is his own.

How fucking ironic and tragic would that be?

I still want to save him from himself, but I have to save me first.

Friday is that step.

I will still have to maneuver carefully, but it is the first step. The new first step. I thought getting in the truck January 10 was it, but it was a false start. This is the real beginning.

I get to create a life, and live it. I am ready. I still have to mourn the one I lost, and for that I am also ready.