done is done
So, I did it and it's over. But what does "over" mean? What, exactly, is over? Not the pain. And not the relationship, really. Because "relationship" is a word that describes any interaction between two people or things. We will always have *some* kind of relationship.
Oh, fuck, I'm being vague again because I'm feeling grief and fear and sadness on top of what I ultimately feel, which is a deep and abiding sense of peace because I know I did the right thing.
The details: I came home. I said what I needed to say. It was terrible and painful. I sat through it, I didn't check out emotionally, I stayed present. She was hurt, angry, etc. She behaved as any of us would behave when being left. (But I have to do this, it is the right thing for me to do.) She struggled against it, she argued with my reasons, my logic, she accused me of shallow, petty motivations, she told me I was lying. And then the reality that I will be moving out of this house set in for her and the practical problems surfaced -- how to pay the house note in January?? And I sat there, feeling terrible, if I had enough money I'd just give it to her, I'd pay all her house notes for a year, as if to make up for my leaving by giving her money. But it's not that. It's worse than that. It's my unceasing urge to try and take care of somebody else to relieve myself of the guilt I feel because I'm taking care of myself.
Will I wake up tomorrow feeling like I've made a terrible mistake? I don't think so. But I will allow myself the space to continue to grieve the loss of the partnership. It is heartbreaking that we were not able to be for each other what we believed we could and would be. She blames me for giving up, I blame her for fucking up with alcohol -- whatever. She was right the other day when she said "It takes two to fuck up a relationship." I won't deny my role. And I can't foreclose the possibility that a day will come when we're both better, stronger people and perhaps then we can try and come together again in some kind of loving space -- whatever that might look like. I just know that I can't go on anymore in this fear-based, clinging, codependent, alcoholic relationship. It is making me miserable.
But so hard, because I love her and don't want to think of her hurting. I want to comfort her, to sublimate my own pain and suffering in the relationship and tend to hers instead. And that's exactly what I won't let myself do anymore.
I have to take care of myself now.
Oh, fuck, I'm being vague again because I'm feeling grief and fear and sadness on top of what I ultimately feel, which is a deep and abiding sense of peace because I know I did the right thing.
The details: I came home. I said what I needed to say. It was terrible and painful. I sat through it, I didn't check out emotionally, I stayed present. She was hurt, angry, etc. She behaved as any of us would behave when being left. (But I have to do this, it is the right thing for me to do.) She struggled against it, she argued with my reasons, my logic, she accused me of shallow, petty motivations, she told me I was lying. And then the reality that I will be moving out of this house set in for her and the practical problems surfaced -- how to pay the house note in January?? And I sat there, feeling terrible, if I had enough money I'd just give it to her, I'd pay all her house notes for a year, as if to make up for my leaving by giving her money. But it's not that. It's worse than that. It's my unceasing urge to try and take care of somebody else to relieve myself of the guilt I feel because I'm taking care of myself.
Will I wake up tomorrow feeling like I've made a terrible mistake? I don't think so. But I will allow myself the space to continue to grieve the loss of the partnership. It is heartbreaking that we were not able to be for each other what we believed we could and would be. She blames me for giving up, I blame her for fucking up with alcohol -- whatever. She was right the other day when she said "It takes two to fuck up a relationship." I won't deny my role. And I can't foreclose the possibility that a day will come when we're both better, stronger people and perhaps then we can try and come together again in some kind of loving space -- whatever that might look like. I just know that I can't go on anymore in this fear-based, clinging, codependent, alcoholic relationship. It is making me miserable.
But so hard, because I love her and don't want to think of her hurting. I want to comfort her, to sublimate my own pain and suffering in the relationship and tend to hers instead. And that's exactly what I won't let myself do anymore.
I have to take care of myself now.
posted by reasonably prudent poet at 10:40 PM
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