Heartache

Last night my roommate, the same one I'm constantly mentioning here in the blog and talking about how grateful I am for having him, told me that he no longer wants to live with me.  Apparently he's been thinking it over for quite some time, but I was the last to know.  

When he told me I was stunned, and of course like the emotional being I am I immediately felt my heart sink and my eyes well up with tears.  I just sat there while he told me how he needed a change, my mind was spinning-why does that change have to be me? Why out of all the million things in life does it have to be me that gets left behind?

Not being one to not express how I feel, I threw those questions at him through my tears.  I've always felt so lucky to have him, like we were a family there and like he truly helped make that apartment home for me.  Now it was all falling apart, and I couldn't help the enormous hurt that was building inside me.  I felt abandoned, and like there was something wrong with me that would encourage him to leave.  All in that moment the best part of my life, the apartment-the home I loved, my little family I had built, was being torn down.  I felt as if I was losing my best friend.

A little while later my other best friend Kristi called me and we had a long talk. I cried, she supported me, and together we formed a plan on how I can make it on my own once he leaves, and where I should plan to go.  She has an Aunt and Uncle who own a hippie house (literally) with apartments in it.  They compost, have gardens, would allow pets-plus I'd get to be part of a cool hippie commune type thing, which would be an awesome experience. I wrapped my brain around that process, trying to make the best of what I was being given, and decided I couldn't go to bed Angry because things will always work out. 

I knocked on his door and asked if I could talk to him, I just couldn't leave things unresolved.  We hugged, and we both cried.  He clarified that he's not leaving me, and he's loved our time here-he just needs a change and most of all-wants his own place for the first time in his life.  He said we were too safe here, both so completely comfortable we were allowing ourselves to stop growing, or trying to go after things in life. I can try and understand that, and while it may be true, I am happy in that comfort.  We talked, we planned, and were able to feel mostly resolved before we turned in for the night.

But then I crawled into bed and started remembering how empty the house feels when he's not around, and how much I have loved this time together, and I was sad again.  I didn't really sleep, I tossed and turned-and woke up even more sad this morning. 

Hopefully a little St. Johns Wart will help me perk up, but it's not a cure for sadness.  I guess I have to let myself grieve and mourn as this change happens.  I just wish I didn't feel so depressed.