Outside

09/01/24 

It kills me that after two decades, I’m suddenly not a part of my husband’s life in any real sense.

I know nothing of his new life.   

He won’t tell me his address, which is unnecessarily excluding – it’s not like I’d rock up there if I did know it.  And he fucking knows where I live!

I don’t know who his housemate(s?) are. 

I don’t know what his room looks like or what he sees when he opens the curtains in the morning. 

He’s been moved to a new location at work, so I can’t even visualise him within the place we were both once employed. 

I’m totally on the outside of his life now. 

It’s stupid how devastated I felt when it dawned on me that the houseguest has more knowledge of my husband’s life than I do, because he’ll be getting to see pictures and posts on social media (assuming he hasn’t been blocked). 

As I have zero social media presence, that’s not happening for me. 

I wonder, did he have a relationship status?  Has he changed it to ‘Single’? ‘It’s Complicated’?

I’m horrifically aware that if I did have existing social media accounts, I’d be stalking him, tormenting myself.

I know that kind of snooping would only bring misery, but I don’t know that I’d have the resolve to resist doing it anyway.

Bloody good job it’s not an option.

And it never will be an option.

JP