Yesterday, exactly a year ago, was the day my husband left. I’d been dreading the day for quite a while. I kept trying to tell myself that it didn’t matter and that what was important was the fact that he’s here now. But the more I tried to tell myself this, the worse I seemed to feel about it. And then I found out that, ironically, yesterday was also international women’s day.
I spoke to someone I’m close to, who’s been in a similar situation, about it. She told me that it was perfectly normal for me to have a reaction to this day. That I was just human for dealing with the emotions. It was a hard day. I was sad for a lot of it. I would be fine and then I’d remember and the flood of emotions from that day, and the days following it would come back. I can categorically say it was the worst day of my life. Even the day I found out about the affair wasn’t as bad. Maybe because I’d been numbed by the pain before. Maybe because for me, losing my husband is what I consider to be the worst thing that can ever happen to me.
I want to be free from the memories. I want to forgive and not have the anger anymore. I’m a lot better now. Time has started to heal me. I don’t think about it as often anymore. And when I do, it doesn’t always send me into a spiral of emotions. Some days I can actually tell myself that yes it happened and yes it hurt but I’m moving forward and looking to my future. Pity I’m not able to do that everyday. I look forward to that day.