The funny thing is, when I was finally able to break ties with my former husband I relished the time alone. I did not feel tense coming home from work, anticipating him to be passed out drunk on his recliner, or if it were early enough, wondering what I would be glared at or berated for.. Did I mow the grass wrong or wipe the kitchen counter not to his specifications? If he were not home yet, I would wonder if he would make it home without killing himself or someone else driving under the I influence (not having learned from rolling his car already.)
On the evenings Writer stayed with me, until near the end when I tensed wondering if he were going to be drunk and slurring his words, I loved coming home. I felt loved. He was as excited to see me as I was him, he genuinely cared about my day and wanted to share with me too. Hugs, and kisses, and loving touch were ever present.
Now I dread evenings. Even with tenants, I feel isolated, alone. The absence of love strikes hard. Sometimes I catch myself missing being with the husband, at least dread and rejection were something to feel.
Exception do still feel rejection, and mask it with the cold, pale shawl of empty depression. Happiness does not come from having a partner care for or about you. Happiness must come from within. I long for the day I love myself again.