The thought of making my daughter’s bounce back and forth like a tennis ball made me feel physically ill. I couldn’t imaging packing them up for a weekend and watching them bounce around. I knew our current situation was over and I came up with a plan that involved a lot of couches and a lot of friends. I was determined to make it work.
I proposed a “nesting agreement”. I would wait for “him” to come home on Friday nights at which point I would leave for the weekend. I would stay with friends and I would be content knowing that my children were in their own beds at night. We had tenants renting an upstairs unit at the time so I felt confident that another person was there to keep an eye on things– and to alert me if things were bad.
By mid-May, I was couch surfing on the weekends. That term is fun if you are 19 years old however, I wasn’t 19. I made the best of it. I stayed with my bookkeeper one weekend and a high school friend the next. I hate asking favors of people so this was a very humbling experience for me. I missed my daughters greatly. I cried a lot and I drank one too many glasses of wine on occasion. Many of our friends were mutual friends. I felt out of place and new that I needed to create my own support network– friends outside of my traditional circle.
I wasn’t grieving in the way that you would expect. I had grieved over the loss of my marriage for two years before I actually left. Once I made up my mind that things were done– I was already void of emotion for the marriage. I didn’t miss “him” and I didn’t miss our life together. I missed my daughters.