I moved this weekend. I am officially on my own and it's one of the hardest things I've ever done. My children love our new house, it's bigger than the other house. I got my furniture moved on Saturday, and now will have to take truckloads to get the rest. I figure I can go every day this week after work and get what I can. I've also made up my mind to throw a lot of stuff away in an attempt to de-clutter my life even further.
Friday night Clyde was not home when we got there, and since he's totally unpredictable, it scared me. I knew he didn't have any money, and all of his pills were gone. I was afraid he might commit suicide, and my daughter was afraid that he was doing drugs again. After talking to my Mom, I made the decision to get the hell out of that house and moved in to the new place ASAP (I signed the lease and got the key Friday after work). My mom called my sister and she said she knew two guys that could help move me, and my mom agreed to let me borrow the money to pay the guys and rent a truck. When Clyde got home at about 10:30 p.m., he was drunk, but docile. I told him I had made arrangements to move the next day, and although he was upset, he was non-threatening.
Saturday morning he was a little more "bothered". He volunteered to go with me to pick up the moving truck, but was pissed off when I told him it was my sister and her friends who were coming to help me move. He hates my sister (probably because they're so much alike). He continued to guilt-trip me until they got there, then he refused to help. My sister could only find one guy to help, so it was me and her and this guy moving all this furniture. He just sat in my daughter's room holding the baby. So when we got to the last two pieces of furniture to go on the truck (my couches), I had the bright idea to move the truck to the front of the house so we wouldn't have to carry them that far. I asked Clyde to move the truck, and the damned thing got stuck in the mud! Was this a sign?
For almost two hours the four of us dug up my yard trying to get this truck out. Finally we gave up hope and I tried to figure out a way to get a tow-truck or something to help us. Problem is - I have no money! So my sister and I left to take my children to my mom's house, and when we got back, there was a man and a white Ford F-350 standing in my driveway. Clyde and the other guy had went in the house, so the man asked if we needed help. Long story short, he hooked a chain onto the back of this 24-ft. truck and pulled it out of the mud! And for free! He just wanted to help. I took this as another sign.
After we got the truck un-stuck, and got the last of the furniture on, my sister announces that her guy has to be somewhere by 6 p.m., and that they've got to go. What the hell! My mom had already paid them $100 each (that I have to repay) for helping me! How the hell was I going to get all this furniture off the truck!? So I asked Clyde and he agreed to help me. It took us twice the time it should, but at 11 p.m. we were finally done. I took him back to "his" house and grabbed enough essentials for me to take a shower at "my" house, and left. When I saw the look of hurt on his face I broke down.
I love this man so much. He has hurt me more than anyone else in this world. I can't take the ups and downs anymore. I pray that eventually the hurt and pain will fade away. I pray that we can BOTH heal (I do believe he is hurting, too). But the bottom line is I don't think my marriage is salvageable. When we first got to "my" new house, Clyde made some smart-ass remark that got a discussion going about why I was doing this. Basically, it boils down to me needing to find a way to start putting ME first, and to find myself again. Somewhere, over the last 10 years, I have lost my identity. I don't know who I am. I have let my husband and my children define me for so long, I don't know who Hollie is anymore. I can vaguely remember a Hollie that used to laugh and have fun, who used to dress up and go out, and who used to be fierce enough that she could stand up to anyone who got in her way. I don't know what happened to that Hollie. She faded away so long ago.
Who knows, I might not ever get back to THAT Hollie, but I pray this journey leads me to find myself and who I want to be now. I don't want to be that Hollie who lets her husband bully her around because she is fearful of what will happen if she stands up for herself. I don't want to be the Hollie who eats to cover up her pain. I don't like that Hollie who hides behind frumpy clothes and who doesn't like to look in the mirror. I don't like the Hollie who yells at her kids because she is so frustrated with life. I don't like that woman.
So this is going to be a process, and it scares me to death. I am scared of living alone. I am scared of how much my heart his hurting for my husband. I am scared of not being able to provide for my children. I am scared of letting myself down. But I know this has to happen. It is part of the journey that I set out on. It won't be easy, but I'm betting my life that the results will be amazing.