A Moment of Weakness

For whatever reason, I logged into my other account earlier today, the one I mostly used to talk to him, the one I deleted all our letters from. I wasn’t even expecting anything to be there, but there was. There was an IM waiting for me. I admit, my pulse raced, my stomach dropped and my hands went all numb and tingly, even though logically I knew it was going to be from his wife and not him. And it was. She wanted to know if I’d gotten the answers I needed from our final conversation. She said she didn’t know, because he’d deleted the transcript. There was something else about hoping I had what I needed to move on. I don’t have the exact words because it didn’t get saved for some reason.

I sat there and stared at it for a VERY long time. What to do? Reply? Delete? Cry again, because why not, it’s what I do anyway?

Ultimately, I replied. Smart? Who knows! Not me, I know that much. Here’s what I wrote:

I don’t know why I logged back in today. A moment of weakness, I suppose. I haven’t used this account since he and I talked. So I hadn’t seen this message, [her name]. I told him I would not contact him again, but perhaps responding to an overture is different, I don’t know or really care, to be honest. He’d said he was going to delete our conversation, but I didn’t actually expect him to do it. It went as I expected, with no answers whatsoever. He wouldn’t admit to having loved me and he wouldn’t admit to having callously manipulated me, even when I showed him the door to walk through. So I’m forced to make my own interpretations, and I’ve chosen to believe that he did love me. I’ve chosen to believe this not only for my own sanity, but because I meant what I said before. I want the man that I love to have what he wants out of his life, and he wants you and his daughter. Therefore, I want him to be a person who is worth staying with, and someone who is capable of genuine love is worth staying with. Someone who is a callous manipulator is not. So, for those reasons I believe that he did love me and he does love you. Anything less is unfavorable for my future, and for yours.

I am a fighter, and I am actively fighting to get over this entire experience. Hopefully unscarred. It remains to be seen if I will be successful, but rest assured, I plan to be. I’ve deleted everything he ever wrote to me, every picture he ever sent me, every song he ever said represented our love. It is all gone. Other, of course, than the fact that it is all burned into my brain, but I can’t do much about that. I’m assuming time will help. I even made a blog where I can wallow in my sadness and hopefully get it out of my system. I can write random things about my struggle to heal myself, and hopefully connect with people who have managed it themselves. I am fighting. I know you will be glad to hear this, and hopefully he will be as well.

I hope very much that you are making progress in your own healing. I’d love to believe that I was not indirectly responsible for a failed marriage. I wish you well, [her name], and him also. I’m still guilty of wishing desperately that things had actually been as he said they were, where you were just “the ex” and he and I were in love. I can’t be sorry for that, and I am trying to view it as a sign that I will eventually be able to love and trust someone again.

Now I’m off to spend some time with the one man whose feelings I am certain of, my son.

Again, I have no clue if this was a good idea or not. I’m kind of thinking it just is what it is. More neutral than anything. I’m not expecting a response, by any means. It did finally occur to me, from this contact and from remembering things she’d said during our earlier conversations, that she actually thought there was a chance he might “pick me”, so to speak. Or more specifically, not pick her, that would be more accurate. I hadn’t realized that, and I’m truly sorry that I didn’t make it more clear to her that that was not an option. I will not interfere in a marriage. Would I take him back, at some point in the future, if they are unable to fix things and a true separation occurs? Right now, I’d have to say yes, I would. But that is way more my problem, and presumably something that will pass as I recover from the damage done to me.

I listen to the jumble of thoughts in my brain, only a tiny, tiny portion of which are making it out into this blog, and I am confused. How can I truly want him to be happy, want he and his wife to fix their relationship, and yet still want him back? How can that even make any sense? I do see that most of what I want to happen, what I would make happen if I had some sort of reality-altering machine, is just fantasy. Magical thinking, things that can never be. I can’t alter reality, no matter how much I would love to do so.

I want him, love him, miss him. How do I get over this and still keep my belief in love and souls and destiny and true love intact? Is that even possible? I don’t know. I just don’t know.

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Empty Days

I am lonely, and my heart hurts. The entire day stretches out in front of me, empty and sad. And in such stark contrast to how I used to spend my time. Us, together. Just talking. Joking. Being silly. Sometimes talking seriously about our feelings and where our relationship was going, sometimes not. It never mattered. I’d talk to this man about anything. He was just genuinely fun to spend time with. I miss that, so much.

I’m going to drive and visit a cousin I haven’t seen in a while, which will be nice. It won’t take my mind off of him, though. So far, I haven’t found anything that does. Seriously, I am open for suggestions. I am useless as a human being right now.

Confession

I harbor a secret hope that somehow he will discover that I am writing about my . . . what, pain, attempts at recovery, loss, sadness. All that. This experience. Yes, that works. I secretly hope that he finds out.

I’ve made it so this blog will show up if he ever Googles himself. His name, screen name, that sort of thing. It makes me feel closer to him. I think that might make me officially crazy, but I don’t suppose there’s much I can do about that. I still say this is better than lying on the floor crying. Not that I don’t still do that, but you know.

Incidentally, I actually hope that he’s able to work things out with his wife and have a happy family thing with her and his daughter. I can’t imagine that’s going to be easy for them, but I do hope they manage. Granted, that’s secondary to my hope that everything magically go back to the way (he said) it was, where she was just the ex and he was in love with me, but I stil think that’s noteworthy. Maybe. If he contacted me right now, I’d have to make his wife fill out a permission slip or something before we talked much beyond a simple “Hey, how are you, how’s your daughter?”. But that’s just me. I doubt he’d have such concerns, being a cheater and all.

Wow. I just talked myself up and down quite a range of emotions, in a very short space.

Things to address in future posts:

thoughts about his wife

did he love me, did he play me?

fragmented parts of me

the damage done to my sense of who I am, the fledgling me that is trying to deal with what I perceive as a failed marriage

I Miss You

Our last conversation was Sunday morning. Afterwards, I sat at my computer and methodically deleted any and every thing he’d ever sent me, or I’d sent him. All the emails (letters, we called them, because according to him “email” sounded too small for what we were), all the chat transcripts, all the pictures, all the songs. Everything. It seemed like a good idea, and it probably was in theory.

But it doesn’t change the fact that all of those things are permanently seared into my brain, front and center, demanding my undivided attention. It doesn’t change the fact that I have a book he recommended on my kitchen table, or the fact that the bunny I knitted for his daughter is laying right beside it. The painting I was making for him sits on my easel, a partially finished memento of my pain and loss. It doesn’t change ANYTHING. My entire life is affected by him, the loss of him, thoughts of him, longing for him, memories of him. I miss him. Not even considering the lies, the deceit, the, yeah, the wife . . . I just miss him. He was such a huge and constant part of my life, and there is an empty place where he used to be.

I miss you.

Dan Jimenez, Adrian Jimenez, escritorio1978