It’s been a month since my husband of over ten years abandoned me before Christmas. It’s been almost a month since I was served divorce papers. It’s been a month of the worst mental health I’ve had in a long time. It’s been a month where time seems to crawl and speed up, a month of weight fluctuations, sleep disturbance, and uncertainty. But it’s been a month I’ve survived.
Looking back it still seems like a miracle. Those first few days were hard. I cried all the time, and could barely eat; I just wanted to wake up and find it all had been a nightmare. Whose life was I living? It couldn’t be my own; this wasn’t what I had planned. I had been out of the workforce for a decade and lost my twenties and half of my thirties to a man who turned out to be an entitled liar.
Sources of Comfort
To cope, I sought out sources of comfort. The majority of my family lives hundreds of miles away, but they checked in on me every single day. Whatever time of day, they were there to text or talk as I choked back the tears. My cousin that lives a few towns over invited me for Christmas. Another cousin came over to visit. And I had my dog who followed me everywhere and cuddled me constantly.
One thing that surprised me was just how comforting media can be. Having a tv show, or a good book to turn to helped me a lot. For the first few days, I couldn’t concentrate enough to focus on either, but once my initial shock wore down, I started binging Call the Midwife. I’d held off on watching this show for a long time because childbirth isn’t really an interest of mine, but the characters and the whole theme of women helping women hit home with me. I also started reading Little House on the Prairie. I had never read these books as a kid and I was drawn to their overarching theme of self-reliance (for obvious reasons…).
Therapy isn’t often described as comforting, and maybe I’m conflating comfort with catharsis (but hey, they’re related), but it was also a source of comfort. Just having someone totally on the outside validate your feelings of confusion, fear, and pain is very comforting and affirming. Having someone to help you see that your life is wide open and still full of possibilities is like balm for the soul.
I’d be remiss not to mention my dog, my wonderful little cantankerous companion. He’s always there to listen, to snuggle, and to roll his eyes when he’s had enough of my yammering. He was what I got up in the morning for during the darkest days, and has been by my side through all of it, god bless him.
Get up offa that thing
As much as I’ve been able, sticking to my daily routine has helped. It’s sort of like putting part of your brain on auto-pilot to process all the trauma/feelings. I still get up around the same time, have my morning tea, shower (every day!), take my dog for a walk after lunch, do the chores, and relax in the bath with a good book after dinner. Keeping to a routine tricks my brain into thinking (at least partly) that things are still normal, that I’m still the same person I was before my life changed drastically.
Hobbies=Selfcare
The funny thing about being the spouse that stayed home is that as soon as my husband left, my workload decreased by half. Half the cooking, laundry, cleaning, and planning. Poof! I have more free time than I’ve had in ages. I never realized just how much time taking care of another adult takes. For the first time in a decade, I don’t have to stress about time management. I don’t have to sacrifice that hour before I start making dinner because there’s a mountain of laundry to fold, or because I’m just too tired to do anything but sit on the couch and drink tea. I have time for my hobbies like I’ve never had before. I can knit, sew, and read without worrying about the chores that won’t get done.
Spending more time on my hobbies distracts me, but also just feels good. I’m putting myself first by doing the things I enjoy. I’m not worried abouthaving leftovers for a third night in a row, or if my husband has clean underwear. All that energy I used to spend worrying about doing the work for two people I get to spend doing what I want to do. In essence, by spending time doing what I love, I’m telling myself “You’re worth your own time.”
One month as an abandoned wife hasn’t been easy. But I’m coping. I’m finding what works, what helps me get through the day.
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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