Moving out single handedly - literally
Moving out of our family home, once I discovered my husband's affair, was not an improvised decision. As the daughter of an unfaithful husband, I had decided that I was not going to stay in a marriage being resentful and bringing up the affair at every reminder for years and years to come. My parents' situation had the aggravation of a child with the affair partner and I resent them both for making me choose between having a relationship with my half-sister or keeping my mother happy.
Discovery day came for me as a wife thirty years after I had experienced it as a daughter. It opened old wounds and, unfortunately for my father, he was physically close enough to me for all the resentment to flow towards him while my husband was at work. I cursed all men, their dicks and their waywardness. I was ready to do everything differently from how my mother had done it. I had to find a place in the city to move out of my cheating husband's home village. It was a matter of principle: I had put up with living there because husband refused to live elsewhere, so I wasn't putting up with it any longer.
What I was not counting on, neither was it going to stop me, was that I would encounter resistance from all fronts to move out. My eight-year-old daughter would inform her father every evening about me searching for a "new home" on the internet. She moved into my husband's bedroom the day I moved out (Dday) arguing that she would accompany him until we moved out. My sixteen-year-old stated that he would come only when there would be an internet connection for him to play PS.
It was not easy to find a place to let during the Summer holidays. I finally found the perfect place one whole month after Dday. During that month I slept in my absent's son bed or in my daughter's room since she had moved in with her father. I started packing and the day of the move finally arrived.
Discovery day came for me as a wife thirty years after I had experienced it as a daughter. It opened old wounds and, unfortunately for my father, he was physically close enough to me for all the resentment to flow towards him while my husband was at work. I cursed all men, their dicks and their waywardness. I was ready to do everything differently from how my mother had done it. I had to find a place in the city to move out of my cheating husband's home village. It was a matter of principle: I had put up with living there because husband refused to live elsewhere, so I wasn't putting up with it any longer.
What I was not counting on, neither was it going to stop me, was that I would encounter resistance from all fronts to move out. My eight-year-old daughter would inform her father every evening about me searching for a "new home" on the internet. She moved into my husband's bedroom the day I moved out (Dday) arguing that she would accompany him until we moved out. My sixteen-year-old stated that he would come only when there would be an internet connection for him to play PS.
It was not easy to find a place to let during the Summer holidays. I finally found the perfect place one whole month after Dday. During that month I slept in my absent's son bed or in my daughter's room since she had moved in with her father. I started packing and the day of the move finally arrived.
Not much help
I was expecting at least some help from my son. He was on school holidays and I decided to move in the afternoon, once he had enough time to recover from his late-night playing. When I asked him to help me, he said he couldn't stop playing, that he was in the middle of something and that I had to wait. Since I had waited far too long for this apartment to become available, I couldn't wait a single minute longer for him to finish his game. So I loaded my car and left on my own.
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