This week is going slooooooow. SSDD at work and life.
I've never talked a lot about the breakup with K. Basically, I threw down an ultimatum based on a repetitive behavior/lies and they walked out on me on Saturday, November 7. They came back for 2 hours, with their sidepiece, on Sunday while I left and packed the weirdest shit ever (roller derby trophies, pageant crowns, some clothes, but not, as they later yelled at me for, their check book) and ghosted me for 10 days. I didn't know where they were . That Friday, I had to make special arrangements to get into the bank b/c of covid restrictions to close down our joint checking account. The following Tuesday, I had their garage door opener disabled and the locks to the apartment changed. Once I did that, I 1. finally got some damn sleep and 2. stopped texting them to find out where they were and, something I'm glad didn't happen, trying to get them back. Thankfully, I was in therapy already through all of this, and my therapist very much helped me through it with realizing some things.
K texted me 2 days later, some long drawn out messiness. I was polite, but cold. They then started trying to make plans to have their mother come over, when I was at work, to start packing their things. I said no, this was my space now and I didn't let people into my space to take things out when I wasn't there. K tried to argue with me. I then informed them that I had closed the checking account and locked them out of the apartment. They lost their mind and sent supremely nasty texts. I packed up and organized all of their shit, made arrangements with their parents came to pick it up, and moved them out. It wasn't totally finished until January b/c there were some exchanges of things. I don't regret the relationship and there were some really good things that came out of it for me. I also never want to see their face again. Seeing some of my FB memories this week has been hard to see, but I'm also proud of how far I've come. I got together with K so quickly after the divorce (even though I felt like I'd been single for years in my marriage) that I had a lot to deal with.
So, anyway, I've come through this remembrance pretty okay and I'm glad for that. It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be, but that's a testament to the work I've done mentally and physically, so I'm proud of myself.
ETA: 32 boxes of shit plus furniture. THIRTY-TWO BOXES of stuff. I don't think I had that stuff ever.
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