One person in any relationship ending is either the left or the leaving. I am the leaving. It doesn’t make much sense, when I’ve been only at her house for over a month, that I am still considered leaving each time I walk out the door. I think that’s her issue. I’m not going to pick that one up, or do battle with a ghost I can’t fight.
She says the most amazing and uninformed things. As if she’s projecting her pain and anxiety onto me, my actions.
“At least you didn’t rush out to leave when you were angry.”
“Um…”
“I appreciate that.”
“Yeah, about that… How can you leave if you never arrive? Easy, right? I’m the only one who could possibly leave. You have it all in your wheelhouse. Staying here each morning is your preference. Mine is to be with you, wherever you are. At the moment, you are only safe and protected in your own house.”
“I mean after you got angry…”
“I was frustrated, not angry. I don’t carry that shit around like a turd.” I did not say this.
“Well, you seem angry.”
“I understand. I was surprised when you balked at me pushing the button to brew your coffee.”
Then, more surprised when you saw me in shavasana from your dayroom. That’s supposed to be a possition of surrender, pause, openness. To you, it feels (somehow) like I’m anrgy yogaing in your house. No. I was letting go of whatever it is that caused you to wake up with a chip on your shoulder.
So you set up your place on the couch, in a different room and coninuted to read a book called “You Should Talk to Someone.” Hilarious. You should. I suppose it’s not going to be me.
I wonder, outloud, if your protestations about “Maybe this is only about the sex,” is more about your feelings than mine. I am committed. I am doing my best to align with you, even as you fire arrows constantly. I dodge. I deflect. I reflect. I try again. Even in rejoining with you, the tone from you was attack. I am not attacking you. I am not leaving you, I’m going back to my house, my cats, my morning routine. You can have yours all to yourself.
If you’re frame of your pending divorce is, “He left me,” your healing is still a long way off. What were you doing to exit the relationship? What pains were you coddling and holding onto long after they had become useless weapons of anger and spite?
I am not your husband. I would be better served to not try and insert myself in an unsteady home. It’s insensitive of me. I am the one who should know better. But I don’t.
I am a learning and evolving individual, however, and I’m about to evolve right out of your house, your life, and your loving embrace.
“What if it’s just about the sex?”
Why was that question offensive to me? Why is it okay for you to be unable to answer the question yourself. Maybe it is just about the sex. That’s certainly something that was different last night. We went to bed and went to sleep. If we disconnect the sex, what remains? Unhappy campers first thing in the morning pushing back against your partner. Perhaps I’m not your partner. It’s the thing we’re trying to establish. Trust. And, it’s a two-way street.
I’m the only one stretching to meet you. You’ve done little to bring us back into alignment since your own fracture. “You left me.” Um, yeah, about that.
back to the glitching index
