I just need to write tonight. There are plenty of details I will skip and forget, but they aren't important. As I sit in this house, the first space that really feels like my own, I feel infinitely sad. I am sad for the loss of a friend because no matter how civil we try to be, this will not end nicely. I am sad because regardless of how little he was giving, I felt happy and hopeful for the first time in a long time. I am sad because I know it is really over this time. There is no going back. This is a pattern, not a mistake. I am sad because I feel used and taken advantage of by someone I really loved and desperately wanted to trust.
This sadness keeps threatening to drown me. Take me under. Sometimes it seems easier that way. To just disappear into the thick, blackness. Strangely, in spite of everything, I feel excited. I feel excited to start over. For the first time in my adult life I will not have to make decisions and coordinate with another person. A part of me wants to rage about how I sacrificed and gave everything for him and our marriage. I lost myself. I want to blame him, but I can make different choices now.
This is an opportunity to really learn who I am, what I want to contribute to the world. I can choose to be a victim. To be angry and swallowed up in sadness and self-pity. I can also choose to be grateful for all of the lessons I learned from him and because of our relationship. I can choose to learn from my choices. I can use this as an exercise in taking responsibility for my part, for my life and how I experience the world.
I know I am ranting, but I needed to share before I imploded. We have been spending time together the last couple of days (like we inevitably do after a break-up) and now I am sitting here on the couch, pretending like I'm not waiting for him to come home from his three hour trip to the gym. I have been waiting for ten years. He doesn't know how to show up.
