The funny thing about moving on, is that while you are physically going about your days everything is fine. The problem is those quiet moments at night. Sitting in your house that you shared. In the house you raised your family. In the house where you fought. In the house where your dreams of having a happily ever after died.
Those quiet moments are the hardest to work through. Every wall has a memory. Every corner there is a story. And no matter what you try to do, it hurts. Even when you know that being alone is better than being miserable with someone else. It hurts.
When you know that pain is important to have to be able to move on. Pain that you need to be able to better your life. To better your family. To better yourself. But the pain comes so fast. So quick. There is no time to prepare for it.
One moment you are sitting like there are no cares in the world, and the next moment the memories come so fast and quick. As if it just happened. Then the tears come. Rolling, hot and heavy down your cheeks. Before you even realize they are there, the salty memory is back.
Time is all I have. Time is my friend. Time is my enemy. But each moment, that pain lessens. Each moment that passes I can take those memories and put them away. Where they belong. In a place that one day I can share with my kids. So I can tell them and remind them of the good times. Without anger. Without bitterness. Without sadness. Without tears.
So for today all I have is time. I owe myself that time to heal. I will not punish myself for being sad. I will allow myself to be angry. But I will not allow myself to wallow. I know this is best. I am stronger alone. I am better without.