Thursday, November 10, 2022

Grieving.

He left a week ago today. 

I'm sat on the sofa in my dressing gown making lists on a cold and rainy Thursday afternoon. 

This is the most productive I've been all week- slowly, I'm picking up some of the shattered pieces and building a new picture- meal planning, Christmas planning and finally, finally, finally speaking to friends about what has really been going on. 

I reached out yesterday on social media- not to slam him or to slam his family anymore than I already have done over the last week. I created a limited post to limited viewers telling them what is and has been going on. The sense of enormous relief, the cover finally lifted, mask off, has been freeing. I feel less closed in and much less alone now. Trusted friends and acquaintances have messaged to check on me, called me on the phone- asked to see me and said the kindest words. I never realised that so many people think I'm strong. 

Most people were clueless about my misery.
Most had perceived that I was living a lovely life with my gorgeous girls and a man I adore- and that couldn't have been further from the truth. Painting perfect family pictures through social media hadn't helped with that. I told people that no, I was not ok and with this, came so much love and warmth; I was finally able to cry yesterday. Finally able to cry some of the anger away. 

I've spent many years feeling unable to stand up to the underhanded, needling of the women in his family, but finally being out of these "limitations" I wanted to. So, I didn't write letters and burn them, as cathartic as that can be, I wrote them to his mother and his sister and sent them; told them exactly what they have done and how they have made me feel over the years. Of course, there has been no response because they don't care how they make people feel nor do they feel any accountability. But it was time to stand up for myself. I didn't need to protect him and these superficial relationships any longer. Free at last. I allowed the anger to spill out rather than consume me. It belongs to them afterall.  

I ensured that Peter saw my words, to make him see; copied him in. As predicted, he didn't respond, though I'm glad I gave him the opportunity to. A wise sister messaged me to say that, ASD doesn't restrict an intelligent man's perception of respect and she is so right. ASD is not an excuse for him to have enabled negative behaviour towards me over the years. And anyway, as he's undiagnosed and adamant that he "doesn't have ASD" he has no excuse at all!

I'm grieving for what I thought would be, the life we didn't have, for our amazing girls who have been so strong and resilient, but mostly, it's for him. 

Grieving for a version of him that never really existed. 

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