I did it.
Last night I slept in “our” bed, alone…for the first time.
The nice, king size one, that it was his idea to buy for me because it would help my pain. The one with the two, husband and wife sized, indents in it. The one where I lay as I sweated and shook from withdrawal. The one where we talked, and laughed, and argued. Where we watched The Colbert Report together every single night, and where he insisted on watching The Price Is Right every single morning, even though that show drives me nuts. Where he used to stay awake playing video games, and take embarrassing pictures of how I was sleeping. Where I spent hours laying, staring at the ceiling, feeling like I was dying and convinced I was. Where he gave me many, many back massages. Where we ate countless meals, and satisfied random middle of the night cravings for things like pickles and scrambled eggs.
We spent most of our life in bed.
Most of the end of our marriage in this bed.
But I did it. I slept here, and I didn’t even cry…barely.
I’ve been told this is one of those things that gets easier. I hope so.
I hope one day soon I won’t have to remind myself that I don’t have to lay on “my” side. That I won’t roll over and smell the essence of him lingering. That feeling the vast emptiness that is this bed, and my life, won’t make me sad anymore.
But really…who knows…
For now, I’ll just make jokes…
Ways to know if your bed is too big for only 1 person:
You have to roll over twice to reach the snooze button
You can pile half the bed full of all the books, papers, etc. you want and still have more than enough room to sleep.
You can practically make snow angels in your bedspread.
Time for night #2…goodnight friends. ❤