I spent most of the holidays miserable. The kids were gone. Everyone was busy. I made the mistake of spending more time than was healthy with him, trying to be friends, awkward silences, awkward toughts, high highs, low lows, saying goodbye, then sitting with myself and wondering what it all means.
What does ‘friends’ look like?
How do I let go of all of the shit?
Is he thinking about me?
Is he with someone else?
Why am I not good enough?
Why doesn’t he want me?
Why can’t I get it together?
Why can’t I just be normal and sane?
Why can’t I be fixed and whole RIGHT NOW?
Why do I care so fucking much?
You know – all of those things the voices say that lead you to listen to sad songs and be so broody and obsessive you may as well have been named Heathcliff. This is what happens when you put all of your all into a someone that’s not you. When you don’t guard your self. It’s not healthy, kittens. It’s not healthy, but it happens. In fact, I know a lot of people to whom the ‘codependent’ label could be applied. We can get into that another time. Reality is that we fell back into our old codependent roles within no time at all and it was continuing and we were dragging each other in and over and through, but never out…never, ever out…all over again. Keeping each other exactly where we were because that’s all we’ve known for a very long time.
So then: epiphany! Two epiphanies, as it were. Two great big terrifying eye-openers that came crashing down like a month of Sundays:
NYE: Epiphany the first: I haven’t forgiven myself. This I know I can do.
My Birthday: Epiphany the second: I haven’t forgiven him. This I’m still not sure about.
I pulled my usual phoenix routine.
I pushed and ran.
I burnt it all down and started again.
I did terrible things to him. To us.
I spat venom at him until I knew I could safely slink back to my cave and not have to worry about what he thought of me. Until I knew I would be safe from his love for a long, long time.
The permanence of it is terrifying, but necessary. Carreening back through the loop-de-loop of old patterns was not helping either one of us to heal ourselves. We were not going to stop hurting each other. Everything was too much, too soon. Necessary in spirit, but not in method. Someday I’ll forgive myself for that too.
I take some small comfort in that terror. I can breathe through it because it’s all mine and I don’t have to share it with anyone. Because you can’t get lazy with fear.
Now to reimagine myself. Now to reawaken the me who doesn’t need to consume and be consumed. I used to know her. I know she’s still in there somewhere.
Now to forgive.