A relationship I was in ended recently
We lived together.
Actually, that’s inaccurate. I lived with him.
As uni ended, I was in some debt and had put off for too long searching for a place. So that the designated move-out date at my dorm loomed.
He had asked me to move in before and I had refused. But now, I had no choice. And it made financial sense.
Without having to worry about rent, or spend too much on groceries, I was able to devote most of my salary to paying off my debt.
Four months later, I was debt-free, but homeless.
The relationship had been ending for a while. In its last two weeks, we each broke up twice. The last, final, only meaningful one came from him.
We had just moved into a new place. A bungalow that felt like ours, not his. The house viewings had been done together. This place had a garden, it was quiet. I could contribute to rent.
He said it was over and sent back my rent contribution. That’s fine - I expect I will write more about this relationship later.
The gist right now is that I needed to find a place to live. As quickly as possible. And I did.
It doesn’t have a garden. But it’s my place. Only mine.
My duvet set is pink. I had initially ordered a sensible grey, king-sized, for our bed. My bed is a double and my set is pink and fluffy.
I am having trouble sleeping. Nearly every night for the last months I have been held to sleep. It surprises me that this is the most visceral loss from the breakup. Sleep.
Nighttime can be dangerous for me. Overthinking that becomes despondence. So sleeping quickly and peacefully ranks high.
On a recent visit to my mother, I gave in and called him. He talked me to sleep. But that is not sustainable. Last night I tried it with someone else, as an experiment. It worked.
It is not that I need him to sleep. It is that I need someone. Both of which are temporary.
This phase is transitory.
This phase is mourning. I loved the new house we had gotten. I wish he had been the one to leave it.
But there have been grand severances in my life before. People without whom I expected to be lost. This ability to mourn him is proof of concept. Everything works out in the end. If it hasn’t, then it is not the end.
Habits-wise, I started small this week and kept the implementation adaptable. I read the Daily Stoic every day. I did not get in an hour of exercise on any day. But I did move every day. I’m up to ten push-ups. Thursday was tough so the morning activities happened at night, and was a dance-off rather than traditional exercise.
Also, my grandma died today.
That’s it. Speak next week.