First of all, thank you to everyone who’s commented, e-mailed, twittered, phoned, dropped by, sat with me while I cried, bought me ice cream, and dinner, and wine, and just generally proved that I am not alone, not by a long shot. Really, I thank you.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m armed with a to-do list as long as, well, my arm, or the fact that when I look truthfully at my relationship and how bad it had gotten with the silence, and the no touching and the inability for either of us to reach out, but I’m starting to feel better. Almost normal, actually. I function with a low to medium level of depression on a day to day basis, so this hasn’t pushed me so drastically off the charts that I don’t know how to deal with it. It feels like this was some lesson that I needed to learn. Some gift from my past life that wanted to ensure I didn’t suffer through a non-working relationship because he was a ‘good guy’, because he ‘loved me’, because I did love him too. I know that is some hippy-dippy bullshit, but it’s how I feel. All the signs were there. I didn’t heed them. I ran all the stop lights. I threw my finger up at the missed exits.
I don’t want to give him any credit for this. I want to punish him. I never want to see him again. But, as it turns out he was the brave one, he was the one who made the final slice. He did it in a pretty dickish way, but still he did it.
I didn’t really blog about it back then, but almost three years ago, I broke up with Louie. I remember vividly going to my friend Andrew’s 30th birthday party and pretty much being a miserable mess for the whole thing. I was sure I was missing something, that I had made a mistake, that he was a good guy, that I was throwing something away, that I wasn’t trying hard enough to make it work, that I didn’t want to be alone, so a week later we got back together. Then we moved in together. Then the same issues I had all those months ago were still there, still bothering me, but now I couldn’t bring them up. At least I felt like I couldn’t. I’m not sure how to explain it, but I felt like I had forfeited the right to hold him accountable for those things I saw as detriments to our relationship because I had said yes to getting back together. Does that make sense?
This summer I sat with my girlfriends in a pool and talked about how I had this huge weight on my shoulders because of these issues, but that I felt like maybe it was my stuff, my problem and I was the one that needed to work these things out. My girlfriends in their infinite wisdom told me to talk to him about it. Let him know how I was feeling. But I assured them, this was not something he was going to change, so I was going to have to bend. They insisted I at least tell him about how I was feeling. I didn’t. Not a peep. I didn’t want to be a nag, or ask him the tough questions I needed to ask him, partially because I didn’t want the lens turned back on me, and also because, like I said, I didn’t think I had the right to. Add to that the fact that I didn’t know how to bend on these issues and any outsider would tell you we were doomed. Lesson learned: If your best girlfriends tell you that you need to talk about your problems with your boyfriend, you absolutely must, or you will find yourself at 6:00am, sobbing in the shower, wondering how you’re going to face the holidays alone.
Once again, my mom came to my rescue and is flying me to Seattle for Christmas, so I don’t have to worry that every car that drives by is him and he’s seeing me, friendless and alone on Christmas day, still in sweat pants, eating left over pizza right out of the box, with that fake yule log as the only light flickering on my face. My mom and my sister have been so incredibly supportive. I knew they would be, but I didn’t expect that to feel so good.
Now I’m in the questioning phase, every little thing he did in the past two weeks I’m wondering what he was thinking. He told me on Monday that he had been planning this for a while, or that he had known he was going to do it for a while, I can’t remember which. That was the worst feeling. That I know now when he sat with me on Saturday night and watched Gone Baby, Gone, that he was planning to leave me. We had a nice night, but it must have been just torture for him to know I was so unaware. So going to be blindsided. Or maybe not. Maybe he lied. Maybe he didn’t care. Maybe it wasn’t torture. I’ll never know. That’s the part that’s tough about break ups, all the unanswered questions.
I don’t think in a month or a year or a decade I’ll have any of the answers. I am going to have to learn how to be OK with that. I certainly hope this piece of my heart that is now damaged and bitter and a little shriveled is going to bounce back, because I don’t want to not trust anymore. I don’t want to think every thing I do is somehow ruining a relationship.
Shit, and now the tears welled up again. I hope that stops soon.
I washed my sheets last night and I slept in my bed. I only woke up a couple of times and I feel pretty rested today. I went for a run this morning but was so underfueled that I had to walk most of it. I’ve been feeling very guilty about Lula not getting enough exercise or attention. One whole human is missing from her life. I wonder if she knows he’s never coming back, or if it matters. Last night as I was making the bed and getting ready to go to sleep she started doing something I’ve never seen her do before. All of her toys were in the bedroom and she started picking them up and moving them into the living room. It doesn’t sound weird when I type it out, but it was weird. It sort of looked like she was trying to make sure I didn’t get rid of them too. That is totally an anthropomorphic-ization of her, but I have never seen her do that. It made me sad for her. She’s just a dumb little dog, she didn’t do anything wrong. She didn’t ask to be dumped.
Anyway, the run this morning was rough, but now I have my appetite firmly back in place. It was always still lurking around, but now my stomach is growling and I’m dying to eat a bagel or a big bloody steak.
I know writing these posts has helped me process this thing. I hope I haven’t been too hurtful, because if nothing else, we’re all just humans on this planet trying to figure out how to be happy, and I don’t begrudge him that. He did it the only way he knew how and that’s a telling moment in a person’s life and about a person. We wasted some of our valuable time here on the planet with each other, but that’s the beauty of being a human, we can look back and speed up or slow down that time in as many different permutations as we want. It’s all the way we look at it.
I’m not sure how much more I’m going to be writing this month. So if I don’t come back here for a while, don’t worry, I’m just taking a breather to collect my thoughts, pack up my shit and find an apartment that takes dogs. I hope you have a merry Christmas and a happy New Year.