Trying to move on

Especially for those who have lost husbands, wifes, boyfriends, girlfriends, or partners to suicide.
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Joined: Fri May 29, 2015 11:18 am

Trying to move on

Post by MyLoveLost » Fri Oct 09, 2015 6:44 pm

I'm afraid of the combination of the two words "moving," and "on." It's probably because I don't fully understand what it is to move on yet. I keep repeating, "you don't move on from...," "I'm not moving on...," when I know it is exactly what I have to do. I keep replacing one of the words with another and pretend it means something different, "moving forward," for example.

I am, I am moving on. I'm here regurgitating feelings and thoughts and the love I had for her, because she really was, as she should have been, my world. But she's gone, and she had been on her way for a long time.

I deserved to be treated better. I deserved to not only be loved but to be shown that I was loved. I deserved honesty. I deserved to be believed in.

When I finally came back home after a month of my grievance leave, the first thing I did was turn the whole house upside down. I ran around the house frantically, tossing everything in my sight to the floor, looking for something she might have left me. I found no answers.

I went through her phone, trying to find a note, an email, a text she didn't get a chance to send.

I found out she had been talking to another guy, married, with children. It didn't even hurt this time. This one knew she was married. He knew my name or at least knew me as Steven. I had seen him before, she showed me his picture one night and told me, "I'm just talking to a friend, see? He's fat and ugly, you don't have to worry." I hadn't even asked. Why did she tell me I was "a good man," and that she loved me when she was doing this behind my back? No answers, just more questions.

She couldn't just let me be upset with her, either. In her unsent text message box, in reply to my last text that read, "I can't believe you are doing this to us again, I will never forgive you. When I get home, you have to leave," was one letter, "L." Was it love? Did she want to tell me "love you," one last time and decide I didn't want to hear it? Did she stop because she didn't want the last thing she said to be a lie? I will never know.

She left me with so many unanswered questions. Questions I hoped would be answered one day when I got her better.

I want to believe that she wanted to find her way back to us, but didn't know how. I want to believe, in her confused state of mind, this was her way of making things right. She didn't want to hurt me anymore. I want to believe that she understands now, that none of it mattered to me as much as she did. I want to believe she would want me to find happiness, whatever that might be for me.

I don't have to hate her or have all the answers to move on.
This, I know now.

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