Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. Tomorrow is the one year anniversary of a day I’d rather forget, but I can’t. Tomorrow marks the day I ended a very long (eleven year) relationship with someone I loved very deeply.
Did I do the right thing? Yes, I did. Did it hurt? Yes, it did. Am I over it? Apparently not.
I don’t think I’ll ever be completely over it. I feel like I finally gave of my whole self to someone, and I feel like it wasn’t enough.
Because it wasn’t enough, and wasn’t appreciated, I had to let it go.
Will I ever do it again? Maybe one day, given the chance, but not as deeply and not as hard. I think if I learned anything from that relationship, it is that it’s dangerous to give everything, because if it’s not enough, and you have nothing else to give, it’s pretty devastating, because it really means that you’re just not good enough. That what you are isn’t what the other person wants.
I’m wary about love now. I don’t want to be told by someone that they love me, because I’ve heard it before, and apparently it doesn’t mean what I thought it did. It means “I want to have sex with you, until I don’t find you attractive anymore, and then I don’t”. It means “I want to spend time with you when I don’t have anything better to do”. It means “I want to show my friends that I can attract a woman”. It means “I want to show my mother that I’m not gay”. It means “My hobbies are more important to me than human relationships, and if you want to love me, you have to take a back seat”.
I’m a punctuality freak. To me, it is the height of disrespect to keep someone waiting without a good excuse. It shows a lack of respect for the other person. I spent a lot of time waiting. I waited for someone to show up Friday nights, long into the night. Then it became Saturday mornings. Then it became less and less frequent. I waited for a commitment that was promised, early on, that never materialized.
I thought that I had found a happy ending. “We’re so lucky,” we’d say. “We’ve found what everyone is looking for.” I thought that I had found someone who really valued me, an equal partner, with whom I was going to grow old. It was a fairy-tale romance for a long time, a reunion of souls.
And I was wrong.
And it still hurts.
I’ve become more independent over the last year, more introspective, a little more cautious and at the same time, more honest and open. I feel like I’ve grown and expanded, and learned a lot about myself just by spending time by myself. I like myself now, I’ve recovered my self-esteem, my humour and my compassion.
Most importantly, my standards have gotten much, much higher. No one has the right to make me feel inferior anymore.