They tell you to write what you know and right now I know I'm hurting.  Right now all there is to do is focus on self care, While my end of the break up was as amicable as I can make it, I'm in uncharted territory.  I've never had a break up where I said he could move out when he was ready.  I never before had a moment of wrapping the coffee carafe in a towel so he could carefully take it to his new place.  I've never said, "go find the woman you deserve," because I love him enough to release him.  When the husband of 15 years left, I didn't lift a finger to help him.  I focused on ripping out the vanity in the bathroom and putting a new one in.  He didn't give me a choice when he left. Other boyfriends left because we stayed together until there was hate on both ends.  I didn't have to acknowledge their departure.  

This is different and it hurts. Lucky for me, I've learned the only way to get past heartache is to work my way through it.  I'm not numbing out the pain with alcohol, but I really want to.  I'm not looking for someone to fill the gap he left.  That's my job.  I'm working on finding my happy.  One move at a time. 

Self care looks like acknowledging your own feelings. 

Self care looks like crying when I need to and as often as I can.  Even if it feels like an aching pain, or a sharp stabbing one.  I ride out that feeling to the point of finding it hard to breathe.  I'm waking in the middle of the night and reaching for him in the dark until our reality hits me again.  I'm going with it because I know what I gave up.  I know how amazing he is.  I know that the love I felt was real and it was bigger than I ever imagined I could feel again.  I'm making space for us in that.  I'm not beating myself up or trying to deflect what I feel.  I'm embracing it.  Who I am in this moment is just as valuable as who I am when I'm happy in all that life offers. 

Self care looks like documenting the good, so I remember it when things feel bad. 

Break ups always end up souring memories for me.  Without the warmth of a hug or a smile or what is familiar, the good times fade and bitterness can take over.  I've been there before, when I look back and feel like I've wasted a great chunk of my life.  I'm taking the time to finish our scrap book.  I want to remember the good so when the bad surfaces, I can find the balance and remember why he was worthy of my time and my love.  I may never look at the scrap book again, but if I do, I won't fall into romanticizing or demonizing what was there. 

Self care looks like accepting the way things are. 

The only thing in life I have control over is my reaction right now. When we were together, I fell back into old habits.  I couldn't afford to treat myself as often as I used to because I needed to make space in my budget for the kids, and surprising him.  I liked bringing him surprises.  So yesterday I looked at my favorite jeans for what they are: too tight.  And I bought new ones that feel comfortable.  

Self care means taking care of my physical needs.

My appetite is gone.  I'm just not hungry or thirsty so when I woke up with a headache yesterday, I knew it was dehydration from crying and not drinking anything.  I'm making myself eat at regular intervals.  I'm making myself go out in the sun for Vitamin D.  I'm saying no, even when it's hard, and explaining the space I need because the more I say it, the less pressure I feel in my chest.  

Self care means watching things to make me cry.  

This sounds really dumb.  I'm usually not a crying person.  Not unless the pain is so severe I can't hold it.  Sometimes I need a little nudge from an escape on tv to really release and feel each moment. The catharsis from crying is so healing. 

Self care means finding the things that once brought me joy and seeing if they still work.

Friday after work I went the couple of blocks to the Santa Monica pier.  I watched people long enough to remember my real peace always came from watching the waves.  The water has been so murky and muddy over the last few weeks, but that night I watched the churning brown water crest into bright turquoise waves.  I felt the crisp salt air stinging my cheeks.  I heard the laughter of families and remembered the other day when I released my babies a few miles up.  My babies were with me, even if their Dad isn't.  I stood on the pier and the way I used to feel sat differently on my shoulders and in my gut.  One day it might get better but I realized I wasn't ready for pier life, and for the time being, I'm better off seeking seclusion at the beach.  At least for now when it's too painful to see random pregnant women walking past me. 

Self care means being self aware and knowing how you feel is perfectly fine. 

I'm hurting right now.  It comes and goes.  I'm okay until I look around and he's not in the places that made the house feel like home again.  The house is too quiet when I'm alone and too loud when the kids are here. He kept the noise a pleasant atmosphere. I'm watching our baby turtles and wondering if they miss him too. I'm accepting that there are good and bad times ahead, and while right now "okay" is a state that comes and goes, amazing is on the horizon and each day I get to look for that. And that's self care right now.  It'll change as my feelings fade.