I'm moving tomorrow. The apartment is a disaster and I can hardly imagine I will be packed in time (I sure wasn't last move!). Here I sit, writing this, rather than packing, my anxiety seems deserved. I get so tired though.
By the end of this weekend I will be living with my husband again. I have felt such a sense of failure over our seperation, I couldn't shake it. Perhaps now I can leave that behind.
Oh, trepidation, though. Will we fall into the same old trouble again? Money, housekeeping... my mental health. I have to believe we've grown enough.
I can hardly believe how much I love this man. This man who hurt me, who left me, who allowed me to struggle in poverty. These are the sorts of things that should have killed my love. It has taken far less than that in the past for me to declare a partner dead to me. I don't know why that hasn't happened. Yet here I am. Just thinking about him fills my heart with joy. I don't ever want to do without him again.