Every day I wake up, my room filled with fresh, peach-colored sunshine, and sink into a bleak darkness. There is a hole in my life and in my heart, melodramatics notwithstanding. I miss you.
I think about you countless times throughout the day and feel a gut-wrenching loss alongside a strange, unstable hope. I believe that if you choose to stay then all the things I know remain between us which cause me grief may be up for change. You’d really be in it with me. But that is the hopeful girl in me.
The woman in me knows that real love, the unconditional kind that my child and I offer you, is an emotional hurdle for you. You don’t want to hurt us, my baby especially. I’ve latched onto the idea that it is the beauty that we could have that is most frightening for you though those words never left your lips.
You told me that you are stressed and have no pleasure in your life. You said that you used to look forward to seeing me with great urgency, but that is gone now, too. You are weighted down with sadness of your own. You never see the sunshine.
I will continue to give you this gift of space because I want to show you how strong I am; you believe such odd things about me sometimes. I am devoted to you and I want you to feel better, I want you to be happy. But I also believe that happiness is much like health: you must pursue it, it doesn’t just happen to you. You must eat right and move your body as much as you must surround yourself with good people and exercise your mind, clear away the clutter and heal emotional wounds.
I know how to do that while loving you. Maybe you don’t, maybe you aren’t as good a juggler as me.
I am not at all ready to let this go, but I am very aware of my powerless position. If you decide you can’t do this with me then I will let you go. I won’t want to, but that’s not the point. I won’t beg you to stay.
I will, I’m sure, tell you how stupid I think you are because I will be ferociously angry and hurt that you’d be willing to throw away what we have.
And then I’d probably apologize because I never call anyone names and that just isn’t me. Who knows, maybe by the time that happens — if it does — I won’t even be that angry and I’ll just let you slip away like a leaf on a river.
You’d be proud to know that I have neither drunk myself into a stupor, eaten my weight in food, or broken our agreement to not pursue anyone else since we’ve last spoken. I haven’t even bought cigarettes. The idea of confessing to you on the 11th that I fell apart has kept me from my usual self-medicating haunts.
Though I did eat pizza for dinner two nights in a row and bummed a cigarette or two from Amy Saturday night after a couple of bottles of Prosecco. But I wasn’t alone and I wasn’t out of my mind. It was just a [slightly sad] Saturday night with a girlfriend who was trying to cheer me up.
The idea of another man near me, in me, or on me makes me want to vomit. I can only think of you, your scent, your weight, your cock, your sounds and voice. I have no idea what I’ll do if you leave me. I’ve never been alone before and not immediately a heat seeking cock missile. I’ve never been dumped before.
When I left my husband I was devastated — my life was completely over as I knew it — but I wanted it. I don’t want this to end. I’m not ready to give up. But maybe you are…
You see your therapist today and so do I. I have no idea what mine will say or yours. You say she’s a ball-buster. I hope she asks you what the fuck you’re doing and tells you that relationships are hard, that you can’t just walk away without working on it with your partner, that I am an amazing woman and girlfriend and that despite how it feels to you I am an exceedingly good match.
None of my friends would date a man with all of your restrictions; none of them could handle it they’ve said. They think I’m a saint, but can see why I do it when we’re together. They love you and think you’re great, have remarked on how much you’ve opened up since knowing me and growing closer. But they also see how sad I am that you have kept such an enormous distance between us and they hurt for me.
I tell them not to worry because the trade-off is YOU — I get to have you — and that is enough for me. And it really and truly is.
Last summer I nearly broke it off with you several different times. I was frustrated and confused, angry that every little thing I did set you off or shook you up, that I wasn’t allowed to be pissed at anything you did if it didn’t make sense to you. You need a Hyacinth Code, but sadly there isn’t one because sometimes I’m ok with you being late and other times deeply hurt. It’s contextual; be transparent with me is the only rule I have.
But to you, that kind of transaction, the missed opportunity at transparency and my negative reaction, deeply unsettle you. It’s another little bean in the scale of Hy and TN Don’t Get Along. For me, it’s a bean in the Relationships Are Work jar. It’s not a scale for me, it’s all just part of an Us.
These are the things I’ve been thinking about.
It seems things took a turn for the worse around October, but I’m not sure why. You became much more distant and sex happened less and less. You were anxious and upset about your impending trip home for the Christmas holiday and, I suspect, spending Thanksgiving with mine.
When you came home you seemed different, but in a good way. You were more affectionate with Peyton, you seemed to have settled into our little routine.
Every Monday we had “off” and would just chat on the phone then Tuesday and/or Wednesday you’d come over for dinner and maybe stay the night one night. Thursday was up in the air and Friday we almost always spent together. Sometimes you stayed the night, sometimes you didn’t. Saturday mornings I went into work and you headed to the office in the afternoon for a few hours. When you were done we’d figure out what we might do that night. Sunday I had off, but you went back into the office for a few hours and might pop over for a little while that night, you might stay the night. You worked out every night after work; your goal was 7 days a week.
You felt like you were on a loop: work, gym, Hy, [fitful] sleep, repeat. I didn’t want to become a chore, but I think somehow I did.
You turned me down a lot for sex and I learned to let it go. I also stopped trying. You used to be filled with a buzzing, virile energy, but you have stopped buzzing. You are sad and tired and overwrought. I am so sorry for that, TN.
I want you to be vibrant again and happy to see me. I want you to be excited about us for the first time probably ever. I want you to see the great thing we have together and fight for it. I want you to fight for me and for us and say to me that we are worth it!
I have some hope that you will, though I am not filled with it. I have lots of room for doubt.
I miss you so much and know that this is probably as awful for you as it is for me. This letter sounds so stupid to me when I read it again, but it’s all true. I’ve been yelling at the dog a lot lately whenever he gets worried I’m going to leave. Ha. I find that kind of funny, actually.
Today I have a lot of freelance work to do and a gym class I want to attend, then therapy, then I get Peyton from school and it’s extracurricular fun times for a little while, then the chiropractor, the grocery store and finally getting to hug and hold my big little baby, dinner, nighttime routine, then bed. It’s been brutal being alone these last 5 days. I wish it were all over already.
I’m out of real coffee and have a disgusting mug of instant instead sitting beside me. I’m on the couch in my pajamas, the dog is sprawled out on the end of it, and the cat is in his kitty tree basket in front of the window spilling over the top like a loaf of bread, his tail hanging over the side like an icicle. I can even hear his kitty snores. It’s a beautiful moment, yet I am filled with sadness.
I have lost things before, but never anything I wanted to keep, TN. I want to keep you. Please come back to me.
I confess I have a secret wish that you will end this break after one week instead of two. It’s what you wanted until I insisted on the 2. I wanted you to feel like you were getting all the space you could possibly need, but I am ok with you ending it sooner. It’s all for you anyway. I don’t need more time to know I want you.
With all my love and wishful hoping,