I’ve said it before, somewhere.  There’s a big part of this that is recovering from the emotional abuse aspect of it.  And there’s a part of it that is just recovering from a big ugly breakup.

I spent the last few years expending so much energy, putting so much of myself into this relationship, into this other person’s happiness, and now… it’s just gone.  There was solidity, and now there is only vapor.  There was something and now there is nothing.

But part of me still has the habit of him.

And obviously not every waking moment was torture, or I never would have stayed, nor survived, as long as I did.  (And, yes, I know how that fits into the cycle of abuse, also known as the story of our life together.)  And it has been those moments, those softer moments, that have been coming at me like grenades lately.  Because the beautiful is now forever shrouded in the vile.  And all my memories are seen through the veil of what I now know.

I learned of the death of a friend fairly recently.  He was a beautiful, beautiful person.  The world was better because of his much too short life.  I met him in the years I was with X; we met him together.  And nobody in my everyday life knows him and I wanted to turn to X to commiserate, to mourn with him.  And I was taken aback by the vacuum that was there.

Part of me still has the habit of him.


9 responses to “vacuum

  1. I’m sorry about your friend. Thinking of you and sending hugs.

  2. I’m sorry for all of your losses, especially the newest loss of your friend.

  3. I believe my first marriage had shades of emotional abuse. He was depressed, drank a lot, controlling, etc. When we separated, I felt as though I had taken my first deep breath in a long time.

    For a long time, I still had the “habit of him”…so I related to your post today.

    I’m now remarried to a wonderful man and am quite happy, with no emotional abuse whatsoever (no moodiness, excessive drinking, controlling behavior)…which I guess means that it’s also possible to break the habit.

    I’m sorry for your loss.

  4. I am so sorry you have to grieve alone. When someone like that passes through this world you want to be around other people so you can share stories and memories.

    As long as you were with him, it’s not wonder you still have this habit of him. But like all greasy things, it will come to pass.

  5. I’ll bet a lot of important people, places, and events are associated with X. To experience them without him must feel disorienting and hollow right now. It’s hard when those moments come.

    Harder when you’re facing a triple loss as you are: the loss of X; the loss of a person with a shared frame of reference to turn to in the loss of your dear friend.

    I wanted to stop by and thank you for your very kind comments on my blog.

  6. Oops; pressed “enter” too soon, when correcting the way my name appears.

    Thank you, again, QuietDreams.

  7. I am so sorry for the loss of your friend.

  8. So sorry for the loss of your friend.

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