I look back to a year ago to where I so aptly explained my situation. Living in a home confined with so many barriers it felt like the Big Dig personified.
We sleepwalked through another year and finally I did the only thing that felt like it was truly for me.
I left.
Now we're apart and sometimes I hurt so much I think I could keel over on the spot. But what's even sadder is that this pain is no where near what I've felt for the past three years. It's more of a raw rubbing at my soul as opposed to the sharp, intense jabs of denial and rejection. In a way I feel free and yet there's this residual stickiness of lost love, anger and heartache that taints my days. But I know that will pass.
She says she doesn't understand. But now after five days of silence I wonder if she'll say anything at all. God knows I can't. In fact I'd prefer to never mention it again. Cruel, cowardly? Maybe. Most likely. But I really am numb in that respect. I listen to seasoned couples talking of "making it through the tough times" and I wonder if I gave up too soon, too quickly. Did I fail? But I can't and don't believe that I did.
I tried, I begged, I lured and bartered and she remained as distant as ever. Then in the last few days she promised to change... But I couldn't trust her. It was too late. I had seen what I was missing - it was like an electric current raged through my very being.
So here I am - still in the lap mediocrity, living at home. All I can keep thinking is - will this fuzz ever leave my mind? I can feel the oh so familiar defense mechanisms already kicking in - protecting me from becoming too vulnerable. Sabotaging my efforts to move forward. To feel free.
I would prefer to never go through this again. And I finally understand the little plaque that cheerily demands that we love like we've never been hurt...
I know that my mood will change eventually. I'll find a way and we'll all move along. Change is inevitable.
We sleepwalked through another year and finally I did the only thing that felt like it was truly for me.
I left.
Now we're apart and sometimes I hurt so much I think I could keel over on the spot. But what's even sadder is that this pain is no where near what I've felt for the past three years. It's more of a raw rubbing at my soul as opposed to the sharp, intense jabs of denial and rejection. In a way I feel free and yet there's this residual stickiness of lost love, anger and heartache that taints my days. But I know that will pass.
She says she doesn't understand. But now after five days of silence I wonder if she'll say anything at all. God knows I can't. In fact I'd prefer to never mention it again. Cruel, cowardly? Maybe. Most likely. But I really am numb in that respect. I listen to seasoned couples talking of "making it through the tough times" and I wonder if I gave up too soon, too quickly. Did I fail? But I can't and don't believe that I did.
I tried, I begged, I lured and bartered and she remained as distant as ever. Then in the last few days she promised to change... But I couldn't trust her. It was too late. I had seen what I was missing - it was like an electric current raged through my very being.
So here I am - still in the lap mediocrity, living at home. All I can keep thinking is - will this fuzz ever leave my mind? I can feel the oh so familiar defense mechanisms already kicking in - protecting me from becoming too vulnerable. Sabotaging my efforts to move forward. To feel free.
I would prefer to never go through this again. And I finally understand the little plaque that cheerily demands that we love like we've never been hurt...
I know that my mood will change eventually. I'll find a way and we'll all move along. Change is inevitable.
