Putting a plan into action

I have to give them credit. My sister and my mom were rock solid as my world crumbled. As I nearly hyperventilated retelling the events of the previous 24 hours, she quietly listened. She made sure I was safe. She calmly asked if there was chance of reconciliation. And then we moved on.  To relive this one more time; for my mom.

Without missing a beat, my mom started a plan of action. And for an 80 year old, she hit the ground running which is no easy feat with her cane! Ok, we'll find a place to live.  Call Apartment Complex A.  No answer, left a message.  Call Apartment Complex B. We'll be there in 45 minutes.  Our requirements were specific.  First floor (mom doesn't want steps), two bedroom, allows dogs, available by the end of the month.  That night we completed the lease application online.

In the next two and a half weeks, a whirlwind occurred: packing, selling some larger items through Facebook Marketplace, setting up movers, a large donation to Goodwill.  Since my mom was planning on moving to York and had been spending time there already, I packed my belongings and what she had already moved. All this time, I continued to work full time and tried to emotionally hold it together. I'm no hero, there were pharmaceuticals involved.

The communication with my soon-to-be ex-husband was tense and a bit surreal. I really couldn't understand his surprise that I filed for divorce and hired movers.  He told me I had to move out. He told me I should file for divorce. Why was he surprised I did those things? Certainly, I am a person of action. I've never been one back down from conflict. He must have realized I would follow through. Not that I hadn't considered reconciliation but I spent a lot of time living in 'angry'. And remember, I had surgery scheduled one month after the implosion. I knew packing and moving boxes wasn't an option for a few weeks after that.

What got me was the night before the movers were scheduled, he said to me, "So as of tomorrow, you won't live here anymore." He said it in a sad, almost wistful tone. That was almost a tipping point. I'm proud of myself that I didn't scream. I wanted to scream- a scream so loud and full of profanities that it would jolt him out of his self-centered world. In my frustration I admitted, "I can't do this anymore. I can't have this conversation with you. I'm done."