Dislodged

I spent an hour today on the phone with various mortgage companies dealing with things I really don't want to deal with and jumping through seemingly silly and unnecessary bureaucratic hoops to get simple information. I still didn't get the information, but they will be mailing (snail mailing, not emailing) the documents that will outline the first steps of what we need to do. They won't be sending the information we requested, just the first steps of how to get the information we requested.

Sigh.

I spent the following half hour eating my feelings in the form of chocolate chips and peanut butter fudge (ie peanut butter rolled in powdered sugar). The chocolate chips were 70% cacao, so it's healthy.

Sigh some more.

But also, I forgave him a lot the other day. I forgave him and I actually grieved him.

The last time I was at his house--and hopefully that was the very last time--I was looking for the bolt to the gun that is missing and ended up going through one of his military bags. I pulled out some gloves and a jacket. His boots were there, too. The feel and the smell and the memories of that pack reminded me of something about him that wasn't selfish or victimized or vindictive. It reminded me of my soldier. I remembered the part of him that I loved. The part of him that wanted to protect. The part of him that wanted to serve. It reminded me of the part of him that loved me. He did love me in the way he knew how. He loved me and he loved his kids and losing us shattered him in ways he was never able to repair. His decisions caused that loss but it was still a loss.

I had to pull over on the way home because my tears and sobbing were too big for me to drive safely.

It felt good to weep with sorrow at his passing. It felt good to remember good things. The dark and scary are still there, too, but I don't have to keep myself safe from him anymore, so it felt okay to remember how we loved each other. As toxic as it became, there were good moments, and it felt time to grieve those. I had never really let myself do that since the divorce.

Some parts are still very heavy and some parts of me still resent him, but big chunks of the old and corroded and deeply set weight have been lodged free and released. It's a feeling like a burr had been lodged in my skin so long I had gotten used to it there, and it was finally pulled out. There's a relief of pain and discomfort I didn't even realize I had.

I think this will allow me to heal farther and faster, now. I hope.

We shall see.

But it feels nice to set so much of it free.