With new adventures, making new memories and new friends. That's the way to go.
The night my husband told me he didn't love me any more and was leaving with my friend I thought I would die, but I live to tell the tale and wish you all the luck in the world getting your life back. I was reduced to gibbering and panic – and the striking, crushing thing was that he didn't care; he had stopped caring what I felt about anything: that was the point. He went off next morning on business, as planned, and I made arrangements to move out.
For the first week I was weeping more or less without stopping. I did it while crossing the park and walking down the street. I wailed my way about town and sobbed in checkout queues. I lost all social embarrassment! But it passes and life gets better, truly it does. It's tough, but you are right, he's done you a massive favour.
The grass on the other side isn't always greener btw, but you won't care by then as you will be in a far better place! xx
