Hi, kiddies. Yes, I know it’s been a MILLION YEARS since I’ve posted. Yes, I know you’ve been waiting with terribly baited breath to know what’s going on. But, since just about everyone (all three of you) who actually read this blog are Facebook friends, you pretty much know why I haven’t updated. For any newbies who stumble onto this page thinking it has something with gardening or bespectacled former BNL singers, here’s the recap:
I broke up with The Boy. On March 29.
Yes, it’s been over 3 freakin’ months. But it’s taken me that long to be comfortable with it. I don’t want to get into the gory details, but let’s just say that he lied to me. And that’s the one thing I can’t abide. Because if you lie to me about something small, there’s no point in lying if it doesn’t matter anyway. And if you lie to me about something big, well, you really shouldn’t be lying about something that DOES matter. And if you lie to me about one thing, what else have you lied about? Trust is completely obliterated. So, it comes down to, DON’T LIE. EVER. The ridiculous thing is, if he’d come to me about what he lied about, I would have done my best to help him. I wouldn’t have gotten angry. But he chose to lie instead. And once he got caught, to tell me that he was trying to protect me by lying, since I have so much stress in my life and all. Um, except there really isn’t that much stress. Yes, money is always a factor, but when isn’t it? We’re all trying to figure out how to pay our bills every month. How is now more stressful than when my mother was dying or every semester I was in school and pulling my hair out over grades and finals? As I recall, he had no compunction about coming to me during THOSE times with HIS problems for ME to solve. It just came down to the fact that he didn’t want to get caught. But he did. Because I ALWAYS catch the liars. And usually it’s when I have no idea they’ve done something at which to be caught.
So I’ve been having some “me time.” You know, that time after a breakup when every fiber of your being is caught up in convincing yourself that you’re not such a wretched human being and didn’t bring all this mess upon yourself? That you didn’t deserve everything you got and that you shouldn’t be miserable for the rest of your life because that’s what you deserve and that’s all anybody gives you anyway? Yeah, that was me. Wallowing in my own well of self pity.
Oh, and there are also the times when you run into people who know you’ve been in a long term relationship and ask, “How’s The Boy?” because they’re too far out of your inner circle/daily life to know what happened. So there’s that moment of deciding whether to choke back the tears, give a one-liner about the joys of now being single, and shine a bright smile, or choke on sobs as you try to get the words out, or just say, “fine” thinking there’s no point in telling them anyway.
Then there are the people who are closest to you, who monitor your every expression, poised at the ready with chocolate and trips to Disneyland should a tremble cross your lips or a bit of water sit at the corner of your eye. These are the ones who want SO badly to make it better, who know exactly what this has cost you, and are angry on your behalf. The ones who want to make you a martyr and skin him alive.
When the truth is, it wasn’t him – it was both of you. Sure, maybe this one thing is the match that sparked the flame, but the kindling had been building up for years. Trust issues, time issues, work issues, money issues, needs not getting met issues... It’s all right there staring you in the face for years, but you can’t bring yourself to do anything about it until that one thing happens that you can’t turn away from. That you can’t dismiss with a wave and a, “That’s just how he is. I have to accept him warts and all because I love him and that’s what you do when you love someone.” No, that’s actually NOT what you do when you love someone. Because if that someone actually loves you back, he doesn’t do a million things that need to be excused. He does his damndest NOT to hurt you. My ex-husband was good that way. Obviously we parted and there were good reasons for that, but I never doubted that he would put me above everything else. Except when HE lied to me and blew up my life. Do we see a pattern forming here?
Right now I’m in the “I need to take care of myself stage.” I’m not interested in hunting for a replacement boyfriend. Oh yes, there are those time I feel the tears sting in my eyes because I don’t have someone to scratch my back or kiss me goodnight. But I’m not going to allow that to put me back in a farce of a relationship. I’m going to be strong this time. I’m not going to run around with puzzle picture of me as the doting wife and mother, and all that’s missing is the husband/father. That’s what I did for years. I tried to mold the men in my life to my expectation of what my life should look like, instead of really seeing them and who they were. I saw who I thought they COULD be. Because I so desperately wanted to be a mom. But not a single mom. I wanted a FAMILY. The whole kit and caboodle. So it was my job to find the guy who could give me that. Because the thought of me not being a mother terrified me.
Now that I’ve hit 37, I’ve started realizing that maybe I’ve gotten past the need to be a mother. Especially with my own mother gone now, it’s starting to feel less and less like that dream still fits the person I’ve become. So much of that dream was wrapped up in sharing my kids with my mom (I even planned to name my first daughter after her). Now she’s gone. And I’ve gotten more set in my ways. I like sleeping late and having my life revolve around me, and not around people I’m taking care of. So I’m starting to see a different picture of what my life could be.
My nephew is about to become a father, so I’ll have a baby around to fuss over. I have lots of friends with kids (although I’d like some of them to be more geographically desirable). I can get baby fixes that way. And maybe it’s OK that I don’t have to get up at 6am on Saturdays and sit out in the sun watching a soccer game. And maybe it’s OK that I don’t have to deal with schools that don’t teach my kids what I want them to learn (like grades actually matter, you have to work hard for what you get and not just have it handed to you because we don’t want you to feel bad, and that proper grammar and spelling DO count). Maybe it’s actually OK to live my life for me and not for someone else.
I know that parenthood has its joys, yada yada yada. Those are joys I was always expecting to experience. But now I’m coming to the conclusion that my life will probably look very different from my plan. Instead of being at a middle school graduation at age 50, I very well may just retire, sell my stuff and move to Tahiti. I won’t have to worry about leaving kids, or loaning money to my adult children, or worse – having them move home. I won’t have anyone I’ll have to answer to or consider. Just me. And while that sometimes sounds lonely, sometimes it sounds blissful.
This doesn’t mean that I’m going to shun men or reject love. But I am a lot more careful now. I’m not pursuing it in the hopes of meeting some timeline. If I meet someone who actually has the same interests as I do, that I actually have things in common with, then I could be persuaded to open my heart again. But it will have to happen naturally. As much of a control freak as I am, I can’t try to fit someone into a pretty picture in my head. If I meet someone whose puzzle pieces fit (so to speak), I won’t necessarily run away. But no more getting involved with men whose lives and opinions and interests are so different from mine that we have no middle ground on which to meet. My chasing days are over – my feet hurt too much.
Disclaimer: The above is subject to change according at any time in accordance with my mood and level of sexual frustration.
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Helllooo, Belgium
1 year ago
