transition

If someone would have told me 7 months ago that my life would come to this, I wouldn't have believed them.

I would have believed the weightloss part, the stuff about getting healthy, the stories about being able to do physical things never before possible, the shopping, the scale victories (and setbacks), the vitamin deficiencies, the constipation, the compliments. But never the part about watching a 12-year relationship disintegrate. Or losing myself along the way.

Since my surgery in August, my insides have changed even faster than the outside. I wake up every day not really knowing who I am or what I'm capable of. I don't know what I like or don't like. I don't know how I'm going to react. And that's put an incredible strain on my relationship.

I find that I also don't know who I am in my relationship. How does this Jen relate to that woman? If I had met her today, would I still love her? Would she still love me? And is there room for the relationship to evolve...or is this the end of the road?

So I'm moving out...but not necessarily moving on. I found a studio apartment. I'll juggle a mortgage and rent for a few months. I'll see if I can stand to be with myself, let alone someone else. Maybe I'll be back in a month, maybe not. It's one day at a time, one choice at a time.

Since reaching this decision last week, I've gained a sense of clarity that I haven't had in a long time. I don't regret this decision. I know in my heart that it is absolutely what I must do to survive. If I don't take care of me, I know I will die. But it makes me sad. It makes me hurt. It makes me a little bit frightened to be on my own after so many years.

I really debated about whether or not I was going to write about this separation in my blog. But it's such a huge part of my whole surgery experience that I couldn't not mention it. I'll probably write more about it in the future. But not the personal details, not the private pain of two people. I'd like to keep her out of it. She didn't ask for this. It's just what's happening when one person has surgery and it affects two lives.

A couple weeks ago, I promised her that I wouldn't say anything I didn't mean. Today I told her that I loved her. I really believed it and felt it. But I don't know if she did. How could I blame her?