I used to lay awake…in a cold bed, next to an even colder woman. I would lay there and think about everything. I would think until my mind was overwhelmed and confused—turned inside out and tangled up.
It always started with the same thought:
I should leave.
This isn’t my beautiful wife. This is not my beautiful house.
How did I get here?
More to wit, what would happen if I left?
I would lose my house, my TV, my couch and over-priced dining room table.
I would lose 13 years of memories shared.
I would lose my dog.
I would be alone.
What is alone like?
I wondered, and then pondered…
And then I had an anxiety attack.
I had never been alone. Not really.
Siblings and parents, roommates, a girlfriend and then a wife.
What if this was my one and only chance? What if I left and never found another person to share my life?
Nobody to talk to—nobody to spend holidays and weekends with, regardless of how those weekends were being spent.
It scared me. It scared me enough to stay.
And now, even after leaving, I lay awake, listening to the deep breathing of another warm body slumbering beside me for no reason other than a simultaneous fear of waking up alone.
Perhaps I needed to learn how to be codependent on myself, for a change.