Sitting in my room, I look at my bare wall and think there’s so much more undoing to do. And I’m tired. Mostly of myself and the excuses I make for why I have no energy. I understand the poor state I keep myself in, though I’ve gotten so much better. I eat more green things, not just ramen and frozen pizza.

There are 17 more nights to spend in this bedroom, and I don’t want it to end. In a way, I feel the most safe here. I somehow forget about the nights I spent wishing I could be anywhere else, the memory of her engrained in every visible surface. No one understands the way she’s still in the air even though she hasn’t stepped foot in a year. I don’t get it. I’ve rearranged, cleansed, aired out, thrown out, done so many things, women, in this space.

I spent the last year trying to mentally undo the previous four and it didn’t do me much good in heading forward on whatever linear healing path I think I should abide by. I cannot wait to leave, but am so sad to have to move on. I think this means I am but another step closer to moving on from her. I think that I’ve healed a lot, and while I don’t think I’m hung up on my ex-wife, I need to figure out why I’m having these thoughts now. Or perhaps I leave them alone. Maybe this makes sense to think of her and the final days of such a monumental chapter in my life.

If I think about it too much, it become a little difficult to accept how hard of a left my life turned in such a short time. Not that left is bad. It was just sharp and I wasn’t ready. I’m okay now though, but reflect and reflect and reflect.

Lately, to achieve early morning calmness, I’ll light a candle that I keep next to my bedside table. I put on my headphones over my ears and listen to whatever I decide to help ease me into my day. My moods differ on the days. Sometimes, I wake up excited and others (which happen more often than not) I wake up heavy with dread. Different feelings need different music to either highlight or conflict. The goal is to make me feel safe while transporting me out of my present state.

I used to listen to and watch music videos on VH1 with my sisters when we shared a room as I was just beginning middle school. This was when I learned that music could really help set my mood in the mornings. I loved it. Living with someone you’re involved with romantically for the first time without having lived on my own ever is a tricky thing, and I wouldn’t recommend it. I completely forgot because I willing gave up parts of myself that made me happy for someone who never asked me to, but eventually got used to the person I edited myself to be. A person who wasn’t sustainable.

So much undoing to do.