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The Countdown.

Updated: Oct 26, 2020

T - 31 Days: The Lease.

I knew this time would eventually come. Something to break my heart and make it real. I didn't need to sign it until the 6th, but I signed it on the 2nd. I purposely scheduled it for Thursday when he would be out most of the morning and afternoon. I've been signing leases with big property management companies for the past two years, so this was cake. I signed. I had a few questions.

And then I cried.

Of course I did. Who doesn't cry after signing a lease for not only an apartment, but starting over? Following the homework my therapist gave me, I began to time it. This automatically grounded me and made me feel silly. I still cried, but was done in 5mins and 32 seconds. They never last long you know? But quality over quantity, and it never feels good.

T - 28 Days: The Purge.

I also knew this would happen, and stayed home when he went out to play golf again. It would've been too awkward otherwise. I got a lot of stuff done on this day. It was productive, although a lot of the stuff I didn't want to do. I got measurements for the couch I wanted, I compared mover prices, and scheduled the elevator and loading dock. And then I attempted to purge my closet. I wound up with just a small pile of clothes. I swear I wear all my clothes.

And then I cried.

Well, first I laid down in my closet next to the pile of clothes I gathered and then I cried. And then my OCD saved me because something that needed to be straightened out caught my attention and I immediately shifted the energy to that. Thank you OCD, thank you.

T-27 Days: The Notice.

I can't describe the feeling, but you're at your WFH station submitting the 30-day notice while I eat eggs and drink coffee at our breakfast nook. You are asking me questions like my new forwarding address, and I am silently crying as I take a bite out of my toast. I hate Ezekiel bread.

I'm finding that I'm crying a lot. Short, but abrupt spurts. I'm glad they don't last long. It's hard. I don't want you to get sidetracked from work, and so I stifle my sobs and put my dishes away. I make the bed. Seeing the aftermath makes me happy. I fold your comforter, and immediately start crying. I hear the door creak open, because the window is open and I stop momentarily, so I can close the door. I don't want you to hear me cry. I sob into the blankets and then do some deep breathing. Could it always be this easy? I stand up and jog in place for 10 seconds.

I stop and finish making the bed. I do yoga. You decide to go to the range. You've been there a lot lately. Sometimes I wonder if you hate me. If I disgust you. If you go to get away from me. Probably, I don't blame you. But I wish you put as much effort into us as you put into golf.

T - 9 Days: The Talk.

I am absolutely blindsided. I know it was my idea to move out separately, but it wasn't my choice. I know I planned it before Covid even started, but working things out was always an option. Matter fact, it was the preferred option. And then you broke my heart.

I am shocked. I am in shambles. I am devastated. I cannot breathe. No, really. I cannot breathe. Not water, not your hugs, not breathing exercises, not nothing is helping me. I can't stop crying. I don't want to eat dinner. How can you ask me if I want to cook with you? I HATE YOU. I have no real reason to, but I hate you for breaking my heart.


How could you abandon me? You are abandoning me. You said you would never abandon me.

T - 8 Days: The Week.

This week is hard. I am not a good friend this week. I can't think about anything asides from what is happening in front of me. We don't sleep in the same room. You don't want to touch me. You won't even look at me. The sound of packing tape is deathly to me.

I can hear you telling your boss about us. EVERYONE KNEW BEFORE ME. I get to hear about how excited you are. I HAVE TO HEAR IT. And every day that passes that week, I get to have my heart broken all over again. I cry to you every day. I realize so many things too late. Everything is so clear. I am so sorry. All you had to do was wash your dishes. All I had to do was say "thank you". We never forgave each other. We never forgave each other. We never forgave each other.

I spill my guts our to you. I wear my heart on my sleeve. Just when I can't seem to cry anymore, I cry some more. I have all of the panic attacks. I think you hate me for it. I don't eat. I always eat, but I don't eat that day. Or the next. Or the next. I have a piece of toast and maybe some eggs, but don't finish it.

My doctor asks if there's anything I want to talk about while I'm there and the floodgates just open. I didn't give them permission to. I go home with antidepressants. I don't want to tell you, so I don't. I don't want to take them, I just want to have them. To get me through the move. My therapist suggested them, she wouldn't steer me wrong. Right?

I've always been against them, but the pain is just too much. I got desperate. I take one and immediately feel it. I'm cold. I'm jittery, I can't focus. I feel funny. I interview a candidate and if I was her would for sure think I was on coke. It's so cold. I know what it feels like, I feel like I'm on molly. You are on the couch. You have no clue, and even if you did you wouldn't care. I think of sad things and want to cry. I try to cry, but I can't.

I am numb.

For as far back as I can remember, I wished to feel numb. Now, I take it back. I am numb, and don't like it. We are meant to feel things. We are supposed to go through things to get through things. This cannot be good for me.

I figure it was just the first day and I had caffeine, which I wasn't supposed to. I take it again. No jitters, but I feel the numbness wash over me. I feel nothing. I feel like nothing. I just want to sleep all day. We both do. It's the middle of the workday yet, we're both on the couch watching TV. We both fall asleep, I wake up before you do and just stare at you. You never sleep, so I don't want to wake you. I love you. I cherish the moment, because I know these moments are running out. I want to cry, but I feel dead inside.

I am torn. I don't know if I should be cold and start detaching myself from you or if I should show my emotions and cherish our last few days left. WHAT IS FUCKING LIFE? This is so fucking weird. I go with you to the driving range. I love seeing you play. I have the two best sessions of my life. Probably the last two. I keep taking the meds. I don't know why.

It's Thursday now. I ask the universe for a sign. You leave to go fishing. You hate me. You can't stand the sight of me. That is what I tell myself. My cousin won't let me stay home, so I spend the night with him and his family. And I feel horrible, because I can't be happy. I am boring Aunty-Abi. Kai tells me that I should hide in a garbage can and scare you when you pick it up. Zae asks if you're coming to the beach. I don't sleep much, but I do decide to stop taking the pills. I feel better already.

This is the longest week ever. I make sure you're gone when my parents help me pack. You help me when ML helps me move my plants. YOU HELP ME HELP YOU ABANDON ME. I can't believe this is happening. This is really happening.

T - 0: The Move.

You are working when the movers arrive, and you don't look back not even once. Three strangers are in our apartment wrapping tables, and moving boxes. Taking our mattress that you hate so much downstairs. I am awkward. I go to my new apartment and wait for the cable and internet to get installed, and then I bring the car back to you. You're supposed to drop me back off, but I ask Mari to get me instead. She's 10 minutes away, and I say bye. I leave you a letter, and hope you don't accidentally throw it away. I say bye. It's like a movie. A really bad, sad, scary movie. I kiss you more, but you push me away. You hate me. I put the keys on the counter and vow to never miss that place.

I realize all the things I did wrong. I realize I never forgave you. I realize how hurt you must've felt. I realize we never tried to work things out, we simply stayed together.

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