Keeping My Hands Off!

Today, the second day of my solo stab at life (it’s super hard to feel single when the guy you’ve been with for the past five years is, like, in the living room.) I have had to have several stern talks with myself about flip-flopping, minding my own business, leaving things alone and keeping my grubby little hands OFF OF IT.

You see, I am a resolver. I have been steering the ship of our relationship with all of my might since just about the beginning…and all of my best efforts still got us right here, on the rocks, falling apart. It is incredibly hard for me to say my piece, then walk away. But I understand, somehow, that all of my fixing of everything kind of brought us here. All of my forgiveness and hoping and trying to smooth things over set a precedent that no person, no matter how foolish, would walk away from. In short, I lay right down and said- “Yes, please, wipe your feet on me, man. I LOVE it. To prove to you how much I love it, I will let you do it again and again and again.”

Now listen, I am not blaming him, not at all. As the disgraceful human beings we all are, it’s very hard to resist what is given so freely to us. Sometimes we don’t even know that we are hurting someone else (especially if they allow it) and sometimes we can’t even see what is happening, or that it’s fucked up.

So right now, my job is to leave it alone. Yes, it breaks my heart to think of him alone on Thanksgiving while I am off with my family. Yes, it kills me that his car LITERALLY caught on fire today, and now he is just totally screwed. I want to comfort him, tell him, of course, that I still love him, figure out a way to fix it all. But my job right now is to let him sweat it out, hurt, feel shitty, suffer- whatever he has to do to GET IT. And it is awful.

But he is a grown man, and it’s not my job to fix him. It’s not even my job to decide if he is broken. I am giving all of this back to him, and back to God, because I am TIRED. If he can’t be who I need, and get there on his own, then he just isn’t the right guy for me. It’s incredibly sad, and scary and upsetting because I have never, ever stopped loving him. I love him more now than I did when it was all crazy and lustful and frantic all the time. I love him because I see how he tends to our daughter, how tender he is, and how perfectly he knows how to listen to her- in a way that I have  never mastered. I love him for a million little reasons I couldn’t even explain right now.

But I hate the way WE are. I hate the silence, the nit-picking, the distance between us that I, for the life of me, don’t know how to bridge. I hate the lies and the meanness, the absence, the inconsideration. And I can’t be happy this way. Simple as that.

So I figured this- if I end it all, just pull the plug on this thing, one of two things will happen. Either I will realize that I should have done this a million years ago and I’ll be fine, or he’ll suddenly realize that I am serious as hell, use his time alone to get it together, and we’ll work it out down the road. I’m not holding my breath on that last one, but stranger things have happened.

In the meantime, I am surrounded by people who love me, support me, want nothing but the best for me. I will be busy and happy and go to bed at night knowing I did the very best I could, here. My conscious, and my hands, are clean.

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