Homeless

Even though in the last few years, I've done a couple of big moves (different countries), they have yet to make me a big fan of change. Change requires courage, pushes me out of my comfort zone, messes up usual routines, makes me ponder whether I've made the right decisions, takes time (sometimes a lot of it) to get used to, and sometimes, seems to hurt like hell. :'(

The relationship has been stagnant for a while, a long while, and we both knew this, in our hearts. The most difficult part was to admit it to ourselves. The easiest thing to do would have been to continue like we've been, for my last year here and most probably part ways after, good-naturedly, as best friends. But after much discussion, we have decided we would not be cowards and will do it the hard way instead; get some distance to think about what we want. And that's how I've become homeless.

Luckily, I have good friends who have offered me their roofs, so I am not actually out on the streets (so technically not homeless). Nevertheless, the feeling of homelessness pervades and sits, heavy as a rock, at the bottom of my heart. There's an incessant lump in my throat, making me swallow often in a vain bid to get rid of it, a sourness in the nose that starts as the tears start to fill up the tear ducts and threaten to escape if I am not careful.

I used to fall asleep once my head hits the pillow, now I lie in a bed strange to me, hugging my beloved zebra (which hasn't been allowed in bed with me for a while because of his allergy to dust mites), staring at the strange ceiling, counting sheep as I try to fall asleep, even though I feel weary to the bone and dog-tired.

There're the involuntary thoughts of him when I see foods I know he likes as I shop for groceries, when I brush my teeth before bed (since we usually do it together), when I eat breakfast, when I cook I wonder if he's eating proper food since I'm not there to cook for him anymore ('Your 5-star cooking,' as he likes to call it), when I eat dinner, all of these daily activities we used to share. I miss his childish pouts, his laughter when we joke, ruffling his beautiful, thick, unruly hair (which I have the pleasure of cutting every few months), his cuddles and... (I could go on and on...) It's impossible to fence off thoughts of him. I cannot yet imagine my life without him in it.

I feel completely hollow, an empty shell, going about my usual work as the brainstem does its job.

If this is the right thing to do, why does it feel so awful??? Maybe these are just withdrawal symptoms that will get better with time? Like a drug addict trying to give up the drugs that his/her body has become so dependent on.

He's been the closest person to a family that I've had since I've come to Italy. His parents have been like parents to me and I love them. He moved here for me, we came here together, once upon a time deeply in love, thinking we were each other's 'the one'. We've been through a lot here together (Italy being the most challenging part of my life so far, the same goes for him I believe). It's a shame we didn't come out of it together whole. We've both tried to pick up the pieces, but unlike a broken porcelain teapot lid that could be glued together by superglue, we couldn't put our pieces back together.

Last Friday night, after he left for his night shift, I went about packing some things for the next weeks in my trusty little black Samsonite case methodically and dry-eyed. The realisation that I am really moving only dawned on me after I got up the bus taking me away from Quinto (where the apartment we rent together is) as I wiped away the tears silently streaming down my cheeks with the back of my hand, along with the raindrops that landed on my face. The weather outside seemed to be a reflection of how I feel inside. And the friend who picked me up from the bus stop when I arrived looked concerned, but thankfully, did not probe further. That night, I slept fitfully and woke the next day feeling as exhausted as when I went to bed.

I think I've been doing quite well at putting on as strong a face as I can possibly manage, while my heart feels like it's shrivelled up inside. This is not the end of the world, I know, but it is the end of my world as I know it. The last 3 years have been filled with love, care, support, smiles, happiness, laughter, cuddles, hugs, kisses, tears, fights, unintentional angry and hurtful words, helplessness, frustration, problems, challenges, stress, everything life should be.

As I learn to close this important chapter of my life, from the depths of my heart, I thank him for the support and love that he has given me (without which I wouldn't be here today), and for the lessons that I have learnt from him in my first experience of sharing a life together with a partner. I feel largely responsible for how our relationship has turned out because of how complicated and difficult a person I am. I am remorseful for all the mistakes and failures I've made. 'If only I'd been better,' I think often. But we can't live thinking of 'if only'-s right?

I grieve for us; what has been and what could have been. And because I absolutely abhor goodbyes, I will not say goodbye, instead, I'll hold our dear memories always close to my heart, so he will, also be, always close to my heart. :)