We Were on a Break!

Separation can be good.  My husband and I have been married for almost 16 years.  While that isn’t anywhere near the 50+ years my grandparents were married.  Or, even the 38 years my parents have been married; it is a long time to spend with someone.  We separated for nine months.  He moved out.  We dated other people, and then he moved back in.  Him moving back in was an adjustment for me.  He was around a lot when we were separated to see the kids, and we still did things as a family unit, but having him back here full-time was kind of strange at first.  To be honest I wasn’t really ready for him to move back in.  I didn’t fulfill the promises I had made to myself.  I wasn’t financially independent.  I hadn’t found any kind of job, or even started a business which is something I have been striving to do.  I started to feel trapped again.  After weeks of TMS therapy, months of talk therapy, and working hard to get off of the negative thought train, I am starting to feel better about our relationship.  I am much more likely to tell him when something bothers me, around the time it happens, instead of stuffing it down and then blowing up.  I am working on listening to his perspective on things, and letting go of constant control.  That part is incredibly hard.  I have been labeled as “bossy” since I was a little kid.  I am also a mother now, and it isn’t easy to just let things slide.  I have people I am responsible for, not only taking care of them, but the making sure they become decent adults.

Now that he has been back in the house for a full 7 months, I can say that I have finished adjusting.  Now that the sun is shining and the weather is warming up, the horrible depression is lifting.  The jury is still out on if it was the TMS therapy or not.  I am feeling more optimistic about our marriage, my family interactions, and getting my life in order.  I am hopeful that one day I can start my own business, and continue to experience what life has to offer.  Of course, I say all of this now.  Tomorrow, I may just say, “Fuck him; he’s a douche bag.”