I suppose, lol

Well, I can finally stop talking in code.

My relationship of ten years ended on Saturday, by mutual decision. Amicable. Sense of relief felt by both parties in the sense that at least it's out there in the open. It's been simmering under the surface for a long time, but ten years is a life that's hard to leave behind, no matter the troubles inside of it.

Saturday started up like any other. Breakfast at IHOP. Pay off bills. Best Buy. Errands. Driving home on the Spillway, however, everything just fell apart like wet toilet paper. By the time we got back to LaPlace, it was over, though we never actually said it aloud.

I've been knowing this was coming and I have been saving up and making plans, but had always been too frozen by fear and heartache to actually imagine that this would happen. It happened so suddenly that it took my breath away. As I type this, it still hasn't returned. I keep kicking myself (literally and figuratively) to stop fucking crying. Just fucking stop it. The world doesn't give one hot fuck if you cry. Doesn't give a shit about how many years you've put in. It plain does not give a flying fuck, so what's the fucking point?

He, however, has the benefit (though he says it's not healthy) of flipping some internal switch that allows him to deal with this calmly, rationally. I wish to Christ I had that switch. I hate coming home (well, no longer home) and having him have to see how shitty I feel. I can't seem to stop fucking crying, and it's fucking pissing me the fuck off that I can't just have that switch, so I can just flip it and pack up my shit and get out before I hurt us both even worse. We both know that this is the right thing to do, that we have no other option, and staying would only cause us both to resent and maybe even hate each other, and neither of us want that. All I'm doing is making him feel guilty. I know how he feels, because I've felt guilty for months, but at least he did me the solid of not bursting into tears every time I walked into the house.

That Sunday I woke up, got dressed (not really, I dressed like I felt) and went over to Brad's. We went to the Lakefront, we rode around, we got something to eat at Lakeside. The whole time I kept on thinking of all the fucking times Sid and I go to that mall on the weekends (Breakfast, Best Buy, Lakeside mall, movie, that was our routine) and how small the world felt without the future of that routine. Brad, poor Brad, who has had to deal with my bullshit over a handful of boys in the past, was as supportive and insightful as ever, and his girlfriend Liz also gave me some great advice as well. It was well after dinnertime by the time I left Brad's, and I was scared to go back to LaPlace. It waited for me there and I was walking around with the rest of it in my heart. So I set out towards Luling, not sure why I was going there but I didn't know where else to go. I tried to get a hug from someone, but it didn't work out, so I went to Dani, who was in town. She calmed me down and sent me off with one of those Instagram memes that are somehow ridiculous and heart wrenching at the same time. It said,

"I can do this, I thought. And even if I can't, I have to."

If that didn't sum it all up, I don't know what does.

From Dani's I had no choice to go back to LaPlace, as it was getting late. Stopped by Lacey's, ruined her night, and then had to face the music.

We're not fighting. We're getting along as we always have. I'm still sleeping in the bed with him, except when he's not there, I crash on the couch. We had a good long talk about things, but I feel so adrift, so alone, so...lost. I'd give anything for the strength he has, because I'm tired of crying. I'm so fucking tired of goddamn fucking pain in the ass cunt motherfucking son of a bitch crying. I literally grab myself by the arms and command myself to shut the fuck up. I bite my tongue. I dig my fingernails into my legs. I get furious at myself because I feel like such a fucking pussy.

And when I followed Brad into the rental office yesterday, my fucking legs were shaking.

Sitting there, watching her go all over my paperwork, expecting any moment for her to say, "You don't make enough" or "your dog's stuff is not in order" or "you need to do this this and this" when this this and this is far beyond what the fuck I have in my bank account. Brad kept on smiling reassuringly at me, but all I kept thinking was, "What the fuck am I doing? Am I fucking insane?"

Too late now.

Deposit down, moving date 2-7-19. Autum's birthday. They still have not called to say I'm officially approved yet, but the lady said all looks good. Unfortunately, my goddamn tax return is going to take a minute to get in, and the money I have set aside to finance all of this fucking shit isn't unlocked yet, so I am freaking the fuck out.

He worked Monday and Tuesday night but still came home as usual to check on me. Having the conversations over who gets what (he's being very generous, almost more than I can take) and all the technical issues about the light bill and logins and all that noise that we talked over together is so fucking awkward, and it's fucking destroying me. I am so fucking angry at myself for all this fucking emotion. I want to turn it off. I want it gone. I want to do what he does and just flip the switch. I'm scared for my mental sanity if I don't. There's only so much Xanax I'm willing to let myself take, and though Sid tells me I can take as long as I need to get out, I know I have to get out for both of our sakes before I fucking lose my shit. And I am very close to losing my fucking shit.

Started boxing things up. Resigned myself to just letting it all out while I'm doing it, because sooner or later, there has to be an end to these goddamn motherfucking son of a bitch tears. Ran out of packing tape. Good news is that I no longer have to buy a bed, which is going to help me out majorly. One of my very good friends at work has a bed I can have for free, and many of my coworkers have given me hugs. My friend Josue draws me Star Wars pictures every day. They bring in boxes. I get messages from people, though I'm currently not checking Messenger. Everyone's love and support means the world to me, but I know as soon as I read them, I'm just going to start fucking crying, and I'm already scared half to death about putting all of this emotional fucking chow chow on everyone, although everyone has been very kind about it.

Today is Wednesday. Late day. Went to meeting at 7;30, work till 6, skipped lunch, don't wanna eat, don't want to be in a situation where I start thinking too much. I used to hate Wednesdays with every particle in me, couldn't wait till my last patient was gone and I was walking out that damn door.

But now I'm dreading it. Not because of him, don't get that wrong. I just don't want to go home and start crying and repeating all the same fucking shit over and over again because it's not going to change and it's the right thing to do and we both know it and there's no way around it and by the time I really go, I can't blame him if he'll be relieved as fuck.

I can't blame him, but it'll fucking hurt.

I am overwhelmed by all the things I need to pay, need to change, need to do, terrified to death I'm making a huge financial mistake, worried about all the things I'll need and how the fuck I plan to get them, because the numbers I wrote down and figured out don't leave me much room for any of it, and math is far from my best subject, and I am damn sure not going to ask people for money or handouts.

All of the details are screaming themselves hoarse in my head, and the one person that I could always count on to help me figure out things like that is no longer my person.

The door of possibility between Sid and I still remains open, we agreed on that, but if that doesn't work out, I am not interested in any relationship where I have to regress. I can't hold anyone's hand, I can't compromise what I want and what I expect. Despite our issues, Sid and I always had a very flexible relationship, and he was always very open to compromise and willing to go 50/50 with me. This is why this hurts so badly, because it is rare to find that. He raised the bar and the bar is going to stay that way. That is non-negotiable. I don't have time for anything less, and I don't deserve anything less, Sid doesn't, and neither does whomever we end up with, if not each other.

I know it is natural to be freaking out right now, I know it is because it is ending that I am trying to find a way for it not to end, but it needed to end, and we both knew it. It's what I tell myself when the panic seeps in. When I start freaking out and start thinking holy fuck I can't do this, I grab myself by the arms and I say, yes, you fucking can, you goddamn fucking disaster. You can and you will and people do it all the time with much less than you have and you're gonna fucking do it and you're going to be fine. You can jot down all the numbers you want and do all the math you can and none of it's going to make you feel better until you actually get in there and do it.

In other news-the apartment...it's on the third floor.

-Rae