moving back

The arrangement always was that my ex would move back into the house for a little while when she got back from cairns. She wanted to come back down for a couple of parties – earthcore and rainbow. Her plan was to move in with a friend of hers whose housemates were leaving. The problem was that those housemates had not set a firm date which meant that my ex could end up of living with me for three or four months.

I’d spent the last three months getting used to living by myself, adjusting to the emptiness of the house and also the emptiness in my life. We’d spent 10 months living together after our relationship ended and while that had been very difficult, on a fundamental level I still found her presence in my life oddly comforting. On that level, no matter what had been said and what had changed in every other way, that part of me still regarded her as my partner and the house as our home. Her moving out effectively got the message through that it was over and that the whole of me was going to have to get on with life.

So the last three months have been tough but I’d been doing that.  I had been moving on. I’d also spent some time thinking about what would happen when she came back, what the effects of that would be on me.  I hoped it would be ok, that we could just be housemates and that after these few months, we would be able to establish a new relationship.

Yesterday, she called to say that she’d set a date of coming back to Melbourne, back into the house.  That was when it really hit me that it was going to happen. And I didnt want it. I didnt want her back in. I wasnt ready and what’s more, my body suddenly recalled what the ten months had been like and in the space of an afternoon, I reverted to the state that I was in at that time.
Till that moment, I hadnt understood how stressed and unhappy I’d been and how very fragile my new found equanimity and happiness was. I called her a little later that night and said I didnt think I could cope if she moved back in and that in fact I wasnt coping, that I was already beginning to unravel at the thought of her moving in again.

To my great relief, she said that she’d make other arrangements.

A large part of me regrets that I lack the strength to share with my ex, that I am not able to give her this bit of temporary accommodation. That part fears that it has permenantly affected any possibilities of a new friendship with her. But there’s another part that recognises this has to be so, that protecting myself at this fragile time is a neccessary part of moving on.

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