Thursday, August 2, 2012
he said, she said
It's been a few days. Strange, as I have had a lot on my mind. Somewhere between my choices this last week, and the decisions I've yet to make, I lost the ability to blog. I suppose I'm a little overwhelmed by everything going on inside my mind, and the aching in my heart. Everyone wants to know. Some are afraid to ask so they beat around the bush, while others push for information. And then some, cone to their own conclusions based on what he said, she said or what they "saw".
So often we allow someone else take responsibility for our faults. Then there's the other half of that equation in which we unjustly hold ourselves accountable for matters in which we bear no control. I'm guilty of both in the 1st degree.
He blames himself. And part of me wants to let him. Before today, I hadn't really understood fully why things are the way they are and why it can't be different. I've been thinking. Sorting out all of these damn ideas and thoughts in my head. For awhile I felt it coming. I was quick to blame him for the distance that had suddenly started to grow between us. I was losing patience and he wasn't taking me, or the situation seriously. I kept thinking that all it would take to settle my ugly butterflies and irritability was just one night. One dinner. One movie. One kiss. One glance. I never got one night. I had been growing irritable and frustrated with his nonchalant attitude to my subtle hints and quiet pleas. I was happy to be his because despite this, he treated me better than I felt I deserved but impatience was weighing in. I would feel angry, hurt, alone and grumpy when I thought about how I couldn't be in his arms, at his own will. I blamed him for my growing lack of tolerance at the situation. I knew it was wrong. And I'd feel ashamed of myself for the bitterness I had. I didn't know how I could one minute have so much patience and be telling myself he was worth waiting a million years for, and the next be so angry for not having him now. So I blamed him. I blamed the way he would make me promises I'd cornered him into. I blamed the fact that he relapsed. I blamed him for not having anywhere to go when I needed to get away. Now I realize that I lost patience because I had been on a timeline. I had at the beginning of our relationship, done my research and realized these things only take a year. And sometimes less. I counted down the days and I didn't push or pry. Not until, when it was close to being a year and he shared with me the truth I hadn't planned on. I quickly became aware that we were on the time of an hourglass. Not a timer. And the hourglass, while so close to being empty, had just been flipped. What I've come to understand is that really, I created my own impatience. I set myself up for heartbreak in the beginning when I stopped hearing what he was trying to tell me and selfishly I only heard what I wanted to. Somewhere along the lines of late night promises, I love you mostests and plans of tomorrows I conceived some unrealistic fantasies.
And then there is the other half of my internal conflict. While I chose to blame him for my own self inflicted wounds, I couldn't help but hold myself accountable for his confessed regress. Even now, while I know it isn't right, I still play the what if game. I asked myself a lot of questions. Most of them pertaining to what I could have done and what I didn't do. Why didn't I tell him how proud of him I was more often? What if I had been more involved in his recovery? Should I have asked more questions? Why am I not enough to make him better? Maybe I was too laid back about things. Maybe if he had been with me he wouldn't have been out giving in to temptation. Maybe I caused too much stress. Was I too pushy? What if I hadn't been so grumpy? How could I be better?
All of these questions and thoughts flew amongst others through my mind. I don't know whether it's all females, or if I stand alone, but i feel the need to be a rescuer. I played the role of savior to my ex, or at least I tried. And I told myself, at the beginning of this relationship, that I knew where he was and I knew I couldn't do that. Knowing something is wrong doesn't necessarily mean were not going to do it though. Maybe Hollywood is to blame for putting the idea of love being "enough to conquer all" in our head. Maybe Disney. Maybe it's Nicholas Sparks or lifetime. Maybe it's a trait I inherited from my dad, a savior in his own past failed romances. Maybe if it weren't for them, I'd never have given myself the expectation of my love being enough to "save" or "fix" him.
Its apparent that no reason is not reason enough for anyone these days. So for everyone asking what happened, and who or what was to blame, I'll leave you with this:
Maybe the blame is too much for one person to carry. Perhaps there's multiple sources. Maybe it's just me and him alone. Maybe it's a little of everything I've said.
Then again, perhaps it's all perspective.