There’s a theory that if you place 4 people on each corner of an intersection and have them witness an accident, all four people will see a different accident and tell a different story.
I tend to believe this theory is, in fact, true.
“We see the world not as it is, we see the world as we are.” ~ Anais Nin
So, as I am metaphorically stuck and standing still at the intersection of my latest accident in love, replaying it over and over in my mind, I am finally compelled to use my own words to work out the details and find the truth to my perception.
Up until this moment, I have been only using other’s word to vaguely and partially express my feelings. They have helped ease the pain, but having been down this road before, I know that only my words and the expression of my truth will help me truly heal, find closure and move on with my life.
Every morning when I awake, I open my eyes and see a room I hate, a room where it all ended, in a house meant to be our home, a house I feel stuck in, at least temporarily. Waking every morning to the images of our last moments, his cold demeanor, and unwillingness to look at me. He is in this space and I am revisited daily, meanwhile, he is living a life in a place where I have left no footprint, a home he never invited me into, a job that keeps him moving. Getting on without me was easy for him, I suspect, finding a new “love of his life” so quickly and easily, now sharing a home with her.
I knew it was happening, even before it actually did. I knew this would be the final outcome. I even knew who the woman would be. Knowing now, how good my intuition is, is no comfort. I wish I had listened sooner.
I wish I had listened a year earlier, at his initial pursuit, and recognized that I was nothing more than a game to him. Someone to woo, someone to win, with promises of love and forever. Knowing the right words to say, to make me give in, to open my heart and to believe in love again. To believe that perhaps I was worthy, that it wasn’t too late for me. I don’t think he knew it was a game, I think he, for a time, felt real feelings, wanted the things he promised, and even thought that he wanted them with me. I don’t believe it was a malicious game, but I think it was wishful thinking at best. On both our parts.
No matter what the case, I opened my heart to him. I let him reside in it. I let my life become his, making all the choices I made based on what I believed he wanted. I put my dreams on hold, giving them over to new dreams of a life and future WE would have. A life that would make us happy on his terms.
The truth was, I didn’t know what he really wanted and I don’t think he did either. I think he tried until he just couldn’t anymore.
I try to remember the beautiful moments, the first kiss, the moment when he proposed, the moments I felt the real love and tenderness in his eyes. But what really haunts me is the anger in his eyes, the moments when he was clearly trying to upset me, when he accused me of telling him stories I never told, because they were not my stories to tell. The moment when he told me his heart wasn’t here with me anymore, but could not tell me where it was. The moments when I cried that he was not moved and the times he was angry because I wasn’t sad enough. There came a point, where every conversation felt like he was picking a fight. No matter how much I apologized for things I had no control over the more he seemed to resent me. I could do nothing right. It was becoming a life, I couldn’t live.
So I let him go. I said the words, I ended the engagement, which ended the relationship. I did what I know he wanted to do, but was too weak to do. If it was to end, I wanted to end it face-to-face, not wait for the phone call, or most likely, text message telling me he didn’t love me enough to stay with me. So, once again, I am the quitter, I am the one to say the first goodbye. I am the bad guy and he is the victim.
I said the words, I returned the ring, and still, I feel as though I am the one who was dumped.
Because we had enjoyed a long-held friendship, we initially tried staying in contact, against my better judgment. I didn’t want to hurt him and I believe he felt the same so I answered his nearly daily text messages. After a love and an engagement broken, the thought of making small talk via text was just not something I could do. When I finally asked him not to contact me unless he really wanted to have a real conversation I was greeted two days later with a notice of a new relationship on Facebook. So clearly, he was still trying to remain in contact while building a relationship with another woman. I wasn’t sure at the moment I read that if I was more angry at him for deceiving me or deceiving her. In any case, I was hurt and feeling incredibly unforgiving (which I do realize is completely unhealthy – I will get to the place of forgiveness).
By nature, I am a relatively strong woman. I know I am capable of surviving a lot. I have learned to deal with most of the issues in my life head-on. I know that because I have children, that I feel still need me, that I cannot collapse into heartbreak and so I put on a strong facade and try to move through things. I even tried to commit myself to going through the five stages of grief in a mere weekend. (it took me awhile to concede that it just didn’t work) This trait, while in some ways helpful, often prevents me from feeling the real feelings and doing the real work to get through the pain.
I’ve been compelled for quite some time to write, but have had a difficult time getting started. I have been more interested in editing my feelings, rather than expressing them. The stifling of emotion, unfortunately, leads to depression and the past week or so has been particularly difficult, so I felt it was time to finally write.
So now, it’s time to deal with the aftermath of the ending of the relationship; learn the lessons that lie therein and hopefully grow in a way that will open my heart again, fuller and more capable of a mature and enduring love if ever I should be faced with the possibility again.
Again, this is just my truth, my perception. I am sure anyone standing on another corner may have a different story to tell.