A Random Musing…Survivor’s Guilt?

It’s 4:15am and instead of sleeping, I’m here, writing…and feeling guilty.

I did something tonight that it is now gnawing at my belly, leaving me sleepless and slightly nauseous, bringing up all the feelings that I’ve been trying so hard to compartmentalize.

Technically, I’m single now. It’s been 5 months (and 13 days) since my husband was killed. Not that long, but somehow forever, in a way.

I’m supposed to move on, find a new “normal”, discover my path, hew out a comfort zone, live my life, right?

This guilt is not about what you might think; it’s not about sex. No random hook-up or tawdry encounter. It’s about change.

Tonight, I bought new furniture for the living room. I replaced every single stick of “our” with brand new “my”. I’m going to be able to walk into the house, and in this room, feel like it’s my home.

I took down every picture “we” put up and will let the kids decide if they’d like any of them. Our wedding photo is put away, as is our family tree.

This is the second room that I’ve completely overhauled. The first was the master bedroom, because I really needed to be able to sleep and he was just too present being gone.

A little bit of my heart gets stripped away with each overwhelmingly big change. I know he’s gone. I know he’s not coming back. I also know that I can’t move forward if everything here is still him/we/us/ours.

It now has to be me/mine, but as usual, I’m finding change to be difficult and uncomfortable, and it apparently comes with a big serving of guilt…