A couple of years ago I met someone by accident. We hit it off. He was fun, I was fun. It was easy and scary and wonderful for a long time. I fell in love. Head over heels, punch you in the gut, smiling at my phone, worrying about nothing because it was safe in love.
We spent the first year of that relationship happy and laughing and challenging one another and being with each other and I cared about someone in a way that I didn’t know I could. I worked hard. I had a lot to learn and I wanted to be the best partner I could be. I changed. I made real efforts and I was so happy.
Then it ended over breakfast. He said he did not love me. Despite the hundreds of times he said it. He said he couldn’t do this. He wasn’t good enough for the future he could see me planning in my mind. It was over. It was awful. I was so angry. Then as quickly as I had fallen I was over it. I felt empowered and awesome and I looked amazing and was the lightest I’d ever been and I was fiercely happy with ME.
Then he called. He wanted to talk. I said yes, but on my terms. We met. I said I was doing really well. I said I was happy. I gave him back the rest of his things. He said he made a mistake. He said he was rash. He said he was confused and stressed and he wanted to see if we could try again. I said I needed to think about it. I knew right then that YES-OH -MY- GOD-YES-I-WANT-TO-GET-BACK-TOGETHER-PLEASE-COME-BACK-I-MISS-YOU-SO- MUCH was my answer. But I waited. I waited and I thought about it and I worried that I was giving up some newfound self love to go back to something that I wasn’t sure was ever going to work. I knew I could work hard and try hard and make it work because love is not easy. It can be fun and great and carefree but you have to work at that. But I didn’t know if he could.
A week went by. My birthday came and went and I spent it in a bar I didn’t like with people I didn’t know and I was sad. He didn’t call. He didn’t text. For a guy who wanted me back so bad he seemed pretty happy to not talk to me. I told him we could talk.
He finally responded. We met. We talked. I said that things had to be different. That we couldn’t start where we left off I hurt too much. I could forgive him but I didn’t know how long that would take. It is hard to be guarded when that person has already seen you with your guard down. He said he couldn’t promise anything. I said I wasn’t asking him to. I just wanted better communication and better discussion so I wasn’t blind sided again. He agreed. We started over. His step mother died. Things got sped up. Everything hurt. We missed her last breath by moments. It was my fault. I left my wallet in the car. We would have been there. But we weren’t. He felt awful about it. I still think it is my fault we missed it. I skipped my family christmas to support his. I felt overwhelmed by it all. I hurt so much because I knew they did too.
We came home. I felt loved and supported and I tried so hard to support him. He was distant but school was stressful and grief is hard. I let it go. I was stressed, sad, and angry. I felt left out, I felt as if I had been working so hard and we were no better. I tried to communicate and be present. He didn’t. He started living with me again. He paid no rent and I let him. I felt happy he was here and secure like his presence was a sign of the love he felt even if he didn’t say it.
He got more distant.
He crashed my car.
We had sex less and less.
Things felt forced. I felt alone.
I thought we were coming off the rough patch. We talked. Let our stresses out and worked together. It felt good. This is what an adult relationship is. We are together in this not alone. If I wanted to be alone I would be.
Then we didn’t come out of it. I resented him. He stopped talking to me the way he used to.
There was a fight.
5 days without talking.
I confronted him drunk and sad. He said it was over. I yelled. I cried. It still hurts.
I still love him and I don’t have a damned clue why.
He got what he wanted. He can do what he wants now. He does not have to worry about making me feel anything.
I’m a mess. It hurts like a festering wound that just will not heal. It aches when it shouldn’t and somehow I am looking for ways conscious or not to let him back.
He doesn’t want to come back. He is not coming back.
It still hurts. I’m still hurting. I have never been so low. I have never felt so unlike myself.
I’m getting some help. I hope he does. I hope he finds peace. I hope I do too.