Moving day

Strictly speaking, I moved into Mom's house ten days ago, but today's the day of no return. I've reserved a U-Haul, and True Friend P is going to help me move the furniture (by which I mean that I will point at what needs to go in the truck whilst P and his hopefully strong companion do the lifting). I'll leave behind my keys. And that will be that.

Although I've written here that I knew this breakup might happen when I decided to stop drinking, in a way it hasn't even sunk in yet. I haven't fully wrapped my mind around the complete and utter conditionality of A's love for me. It's hard to face straight on. But the truth is that he not only created immediate, concrete obstacles to my sobriety, he also asked me to leave our shared home on Day Three because I "upset" him by calling him on his lack of support. By the time he invited me back two days later, I had accepted that I shouldn't and didn't want to return.

We were never the partners I believed us to be. I was a drinking buddy, confidant, media-consumption companion, housekeeper, and occasional sex toy. That is all.

I don't understand yet how I was so thoroughly fooled, though my alcoholism clearly played a major part. And of course A said the right things at the right times, generally, up until I quit drinking. On paper we were super-duper compatible. But the depth of love I thought I saw in his eyes turned out to be too ephemeral to even call fleeting.

And what about me? Did I "really" love A? I think I did, but I'll be honest and say that I'm not entirely sure now. Maybe my neediness and continual quest to focus my life on relationships and activities outside myself preclude genuine love. My version of pseudo-love is a lot kinder and gentler than A's--it does a hell of a lot more laundry and dishes as well--but maybe in the long run it's just as selfish.

Frankly, I'm sort of grateful for A's asshattery. It made instantly clear what could have been an agonized, weeks-long decision. The proverbial "clean break" is the best path for my recovery, but if he hadn't been so stunningly unsupportive, I would've stayed with him as long as I could stand it. And maybe I wouldn't still be sober right now, on day thirteen.

For today, the next right thing is to complete the logistical aspects of this transition so that I can solidify my new, more constructive choices. I'm so grateful to have a safe haven for my retreat. Soon it will be a safe haven that includes my desk and my books, yay. I miss my old neighborhood terribly--I'm not a suburban animal anymore--but it was within walking distance to bars and a very nice wine shop. Here I'm within walking distance to...a park. Better. At least for now.