I expected sorrow, since it was a death, albeit a death of a relationship and not a death of an individual. I expected fear or anxiety, as the door was opening on the unknown. I expected even relief as my space and my time would be fully mine again. I even allowed for the possibility of happiness, as my mother-in-law was moving out as well.

I expected many different emotions as my wife began in earnest the process of moving our things -her things- to her new home on Friday. What I did not expect was anger.

As the truck pulled away with the tangible evidence of the bulk of the last nine years of my life, I found myself with an anger usually reserved for great injustices or people who have wounded me grievously. I assume it was because I was perceiving this as both.

My wife and I first moved to our -my- present home not long after I moved down here and married her, which gave me a true point of comparison as to how much she had and how much she now has. When I first married my wife, I actually had more clothes than she. My wife owned exactly one brassiere. The first meal she ever prepared for me was purchased, in part, with food stamps.

She now has enough clothes that I was evicted from the joint closet in our -my- bedroom. She has clothes she bought but never wore. She's bought larger televisions, nicer furniture, and enough toys for my granddaughter to start a store. She has a three year old and one year old car. And even though she doesn't have her full time job back, she still has enough money, apparently, to completely decorate my granddaughter's new room at the new house.

Meanwhile I have less of my meager furnishings than I brought into the relationship. I am still driving the car I drove down to here ten years ago. I'm having to calculate if I can eat 30 times in the next month and whether or not I can afford Goo Gone® and Resolve®, which this place desperately needs since my wife let the granddaughter eat anywhere and stick things up anywhere she wanted.

The remainder of the heavy lifting is today. She has invited me to the new house Sunday to do my laundry, since Sunday had always been my laundry day. And I am broke enough to consider it. But my brain is telling me that I had better find another way, that to look at all she has been able to accumulate with all I had to sacrifice in a place that will not be my home will be too much to bear.

And I believe my brain is right.

Sounds very tough but at least you are past that part of it. Keep your spirits up and remember that you have a lot of people here who are on your side.

This is a rough time, James, but it will pass. Use the laundromat and look toward the future.

No real experience with this myself, but my sister is going through a similar situation. Hard as it may be to believe, this is more of a beginning than an ending.

Hang tough, James. We're here for ya.

Not much I can say, James, except that I understand. And I hope you are able to get through this. God can help you through anything. Let him.

And the part about accumulating possessions sounds familiar. I suppose it has something to do with the lingering effects of impoverished childhoods, which create a hunger for more stuff combined with a lack of good lessons in handling money.

The possessions she is taking are only things. What is left is you and you are the one that matters. To bad she couldn't see that. And since she can't, you are better off without her and her stuff.
We are here for you as you move forwards. Take care.

She may take your possessions, but she will never take ... your IMWAN.

I'm pretty sure that was taken in Charlotte.

James,

Here's hoping things get better for you.

Brother James,
I'm sorry for your pain.
I look forward to the day you wake and forget to hurt.
TT