Its been a while since my last update. A year to be exact. In the past year I met a wonderful guy who very successfully pulled my heartstrings from another state. After about 7 months of dating I took the plunge and moved in with him. Might seem a bit too early, but a series of events led to it seeming like the best choice—my lease being up, my dog attacking my roommate's boyfriend, wanting a change from the city, etc.
Off I went, bright-eyed and bushy tailed—completely unaware of all the impending problems that arise when 2 people—who until 7 months ago were strangers—mash their lives together. Ignorance really is bliss, and knowledge is quite frightening. When you share a space with someone and see them everyday instead of 2 times a week, you begin to see ALL of them. Not just how they doll themselves up for the weekly visit. The masks come off, the walls go down, and the Emperor has no clothes. The initial relationship magic subsides and gives way to knowing and realization. How do you make love stay? What makes it go away in the first place? I don't think all the couples counseling in the world can answer that.
The human heart is a fickle thing. When we learn something about another that we don't like, we recoil. The first cut is the deepest. After that, we look for other things that are unsavory. We assess whether it is changeable, tolerable, or unwieldy. We have these unsettling feelings that we were wrong in giving our heart to this perfect person who is suddenly flawed. And maybe they think the same about us. What flaws does he see in me? How can I change them for the better, if he won't point them out to me. How dare he tell me that I'm too stubborn and need to compromise. Where does he get off? No. Wait. Its unfair to be angry. He's just sharing his feelings with me. Well what gives him the right to tell me what to do or how to be? He's not perfect himself. When I try to point out something to HIM, HE gets all defensive. Aren't I allowed to do the same. No. Take the high road. Compromise. Relationships are about compromise. But why am I doing all the compromising? Am I the only one who cares? Does he not love me as much as I love him? If he did, then he would listen to me and make an effort to make me happy.
We fight with ourselves long before we fight with our partner. We try to cover every angle. Assure ourselves that it's a battle worth fighting. Think of everything they can/would say in retaliation. It seems to be a battle without a winner. When the losing battles pile up, our feelings change from optimistic caution to frustration and disillusionment. We feel we can do better. Find someone that is a better "fit" for us. Maybe my partner is feeling the same way? I wish they would just tell me. Why do I have to be the villain and start confrontations? Why isn't this a two-way street? I can't believe I gave up my life to be a part of his. I bet he doesn't even want me here. Why stay? Fight or flight?
I chose flight. We had another talk that was supposed to be productive and instead led to disagreement. I couldn't take it anymore and I left that afternoon. To avoid feeling any pain, I set my efforts on stuffing my life into boxes and bags and loading it into a truck. Use anger to avoid the sorrow. Use focus to ignore the loss. It wasn't until unpacking a bag full of underwear into my new, unfamiliar, tiny, shrinking-by-the-second room that everything hit. The past year of effort and love was lost. Why? How? What did I do wrong? Was it a mistake? Does he feel the same? The doubts run rampant and fast like a marquee.
My heart sank and chunks rose in my throat. I'm losing more than a relationship. I'm losing a life and love. I'm losing him and every part of him. His family. His friends. His dogs. His familiar house. The comfort of his hugs and backrubs. His jokes and quirks. His dentist I switched to. His gym I just joined. The upcoming trips we had planned. My date for the wedding. My ride to the airport. My someone to call when something is wrong. My someone to call when something is right. Who do I call now?
This is when we turn to friends. "I'm sorry." "Time heals all wounds." "It'll be okay." I want it to be okay NOW. Make it go away. I would make it go away for you. A friend—far more spiritual than I—actually told me that God doesn't throw things at us that we can't handle. I asked her why people committed suicide then. She didn't have a reply.
I barricaded myself infront of my computer and surfed the internet. For nothing in particular. I stumbled across a few Live Journals and blogs wherein people wrote entries similar to this one. I always hated online diaries. I think that a diary is personal. Private. Not for everyone on Earth to read. But as I read some of these entries—running the gammett from lovesick 15 year olds to 40 year old heart-broken divorcees—I was actually smiling. They were all writing the things that I was feeling. Their streams of consciousness were almost identical to mine. We were all marching in identical, sad, routeless parades. The sameness in me is the sameness in them. It feels good to not be alone. It took strangers to bring me familiarity. I think I understand online journals now. They're not just for us. They're for people like us.
I'm not okay. I don't feel fine. I don't want time to think it over. I want it to BE over. But I know I'm not the only one feeling as I do. I hope if you read this that it brings meaning to your sadness as it did me. Or makes your good mood even better knowing that you are a step above.
I can say with some certainty that my next entry will not be as long in coming as this one. Nor will it be morose. I'll stick to being tactless.
