Accept and Let Go.

I am meditating on acceptance. I don’t really know where to start. I guess I could go with ‘I can’t change a decision that was made by somebody else‘. So I’ll say that again.
I can’t change that NB chose to remove himself from my life. Whether it was by force, by choice, by blackmail, by whatever! I can’t do anything about it. The circumstances that surround it do not matter. It is what it is. There is nothing to do except embrace the facts of the situation. He chose a different life, and now that means things must change in mine. Just writing that make me feel a bit better.

I don’t have to mope or mourn if it doesn’t feel natural.
I don’t have to laugh and pretend nothing is wrong if it doesn’t feel natural.
I just have to be true to how I’m feeling and wait for it to pass.
That’s it. I think I can handle that.

When I was still drinking, I (vaguely) remember being shit-faced and crying because I hated what the NB situation was doing to me. I was lying on my kitchen floor sobbing into his lap. Snot everywhere (über attractive). He stroked my hair and told me honest but comforting things while I cried it all out. I remember saying that I didn’t care what choice he made but he had to make one. I said that frequently. Part of me did mean it, but the bigger, uglier part wanted him to choose me. So there it is, the thing that hurts the most to admit.

He chose to let me go, which means I have to let him go, even though I don’t want to. I didn’t want any of this. But realizing that I don’t want to let him go, and that I would have done anything to prevent it from happening doesn’t fucking change anything. It’s still the way it is, against my wishes sure, but that also doesn’t change a thing. The only thing I can do from here is keep living my life, albeit a little differently now.

No more making extra coffee on the days he’d pop by mid morning.
No more waiting to hear when he’s free, changing my day around to spend an hour or two together.
No more monitoring how much perfume I wear so he doesn’t leave the house smelling like another woman.
No more lonely evenings waiting to hear back from him.
No more staying up later than I should to see if he can steal away on the motorcycle.
No more secrets.
No more guilt.
No more waiting.

I anticipate feeling relieved someday soon. The confusion and struggles I’ve been facing in all of this makes me think of my first two weeks of sobriety. I was fucking terrified when I made the decision to never drink again. Firstly, I didn’t think I could do it and secondly, I didn’t think I would be the same person if I did (in a bad way). I didn’t know myself without the poison that kept me numb. I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I didn’t realize I would wake up one day not long after making said choice, feeling that a huge weight had been lifted off of me, feeling like a more authentic me. It was the best decision I’ve made to date, I have no true regrets even on my worst days.

Perhaps a similar epiphany is on the other side of this pain? I really hope so.

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