Today is the one-week anniversary of Brian's sayonara. Bri-o-nara. I'm holding up well, thanks. Here are a few things that have thrown me for a loop in the last week:
I do not know what to do in a grocery store: What do I want? I have no idea; I've walked in, and left empty-handed twice.
I went to Chicago over the weekend. What did I want? No looking at clothes, snacks, or housewares for Brian while we shopped. Me, me, me.
No checking in. No telling him where I am, where I'll be, when I'll be home. (Yes, we filled each other in on such things.)
Almost no laundry to do after a week.
Ran the dishwasher only once in the last week. It was full of coffee cups and water glasses.
I don't have to wear a robe, or granny-nighties around the house anymore. I can walk right out into the living room any time I please, wearing anything I please. Or nothing.
No closing the bedroom door when I head off to bed.
I can do whatever I want, whenever I want.
And I am paralyzed with the SELF-ishness of it. It's very bizarre.
I think the one thing I'm most surprised to discover is how much I considered him in my daily decision making, even though we both basically led separate lives.
It's all right, although the awareness of it sometimes make me feel a tiny bit like I've been punched in the stomach. I keep forgetting that I don't have to consider him.
I imagine it will grow on me. When I get used to this, I'm planning to run out and buy myself a cute lil something that is NOT made of flannel.
It's good to have a plan.