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He called earlier this week.  He wants to get together this weekend.  Dinner.  Hang out.  (yes, by hang out, I mean that).  I told him I’d think about it.  He probably thinks I’m just playing it cool. 

I’m seriously thinking about it.  Wait.  I’m thinking about it. Seriously. 

When he first called, and asked, the old me was “Sure, OK” but the new me was smart enough to keep Old Me’s big mouth shut.  I didn’t jump.  Maybe that surprised him.  Maybe it didn’t.

I’m still not sure I’ll go.  A part of me wants to go, just to see.  See if there is anything left, any hope, any shred of what we shared over the past two years.  A part of me wants to go and see if I can see past all that I see now that I over looked before, and find anything resembling the person I loved.  A part of me wants to go because I don’t want to eliminate hope entirely and I know in my heart, if I don’t go this time, I won’t ever go.  If I don’t go this time, it’s my own way of saying No More.

And that’s the part I’m probably proudest of, the part that can stand up and allow myself the option to say No to him.  In all of two years, I’ve never said no to him.  I’ve never wanted to.  It was never a consideration or an option. 

Today it is. 

I know that if I chose that option, I not only choose it for this weekend, I choose it for the rest of my life.  If I don’t go tomorrow, I will never go. 

And maybe for the first time in a long time, I’m being honest with myself and allowing for that possibility.  The fact that I’m considering it at all, well, that might just be a big enough sign to pay attention to.

I got a message this weekend, “Please call me, I need to talk to you.  I may be in jail later tonight”.  Of course this is not a person I talk to on any regular basis, so I was wondering if they wanted survival tips or fashion advice. 

I learned this weekend that some people no matter what you do, will drive you to consider murder as the only viable answer.  They just can’t help themselves.

It is amazing how hyper an 8 year old can been when hopped up on adrenaline, candy and soda.  It is even more amazing how hard and how fast that same 8 year old can crash just a few short hours later.

I believe that making brownies with your children can turn a ho hum doldrums day into something magical and special.

I believe if you are taken to the hospital by ambulance for drinking too much on Friday night, it is not a good idea to start drinking the minute you get home and be drunk later that night.

I believe that impossible situations only look that way when you’re facing them. Once you are through that situation, looking back you often wonder what was so impossible about it in the first place?

I believe that sometimes the hardest step of the journey is the first one.

I believe there is a certain amount of satisfaction in knowing he worries about me still, even if I don’t worry about him so much. 

I believe that some behavioral patterns in some people cannot be changed, mainly because they don’t see them as a problem.

I believe it’s worth the time and the money to make sure something is done right the first time. 

I believe that sometimes financial, emotional and physical security costs way too much.

I believe that if you’re getting married just because you want to be married, then you shouldn’t get married at all.

I believe that no matter how big and sparkly or expensive the bling is it shouldn’t blind you to the reality staring you in the face.

I believe that sometimes a ring is just a ring. 

I believe there is a distinct difference between tolerance and acceptance. 

I believe that love isn’t enough.

I believe that I may not be the most popular mom with the kids in the neighborhood but I know that my girls won’t end up pregnant at 14.

I believe that parents can cripple their children, even with the best of intentions.

I believe that standing under your parents umbrella stunts your emotional growth and your self respect.

I believe that love is always a choice, it’s not some place we fall.

Ah Saturday.  But it’s Saturday with my girls.  Today is their school’s fall festival so at 4:00 today Newt will be in very first parade.  The third grade has put together a float for the parade.  Theme?  High School Musical, what else.  Newt is by the way, very excited.

I would love to take pictures of the festivities, and I probably will, but since my laptop is dead in the water, I can’t get the pictures off the memory card or do anything with them.  So, does anyone a) have a laptop they are no longer using due to the fact they upgraded (I’ll pay shipping costs)(Yes, I know I’m begging for a lot in asking that question) or B) know where I can get one really really cheap.  I am lost without my laptop, and I can’t get to any of my pictures. 

Yesterday was a milestone for me of sorts.  I did not contact Batman in any way.  No text messages, no phone calls, no messages on IM.  Standing on my own.  After some things that have gone down between me and EW, I am tempted to just walk away from everyone in that family or even remotely connected to them.  The problem is, he still has things of mine (which I can get back) but he also owns my cell phone (since it is on his plan) so I have to remain somewhat connected to him so he can continue to pay for my cell phone. (yes, please do not tell me to switch it over to my own plan… For a whole lot of reasons that is just not feasible right now).  So, right now, it’s silent on that front, and well, that’s ok.

Yes, I know that my pain was self-inflicted.  I know that I should just stay away and let him live his life.  I will admit that I don’t know that he’s found anyone on there to talk to or do anything with.  I also know that my being logged in to see if he was logged in will show him that I was logged in and it’s possible he will wonder what I’m doing, who I’m talking to. It’s also possible that pigs will walk on the moon. Highly improbable, but definitely possible.

Either way, I’m not looking any more.  I’m staying away.  I am still pissed he used one of MY photos without asking.  Although how exactly would he ask?  ‘Uh, can I use one of the pictures you took of me on my profile?’  That would take more guts than even he has.  

I guess what finally opened my eyes to why this was ‘for the best’ was reading the book 10 Stupid Things Couples Do to Mess Up Their Relationship and realizing that between the two of us, we were breaking, oh I don’t know, about 12 of them.  Although I think the one stupid thing that got left out of the book was #11 Not admitting that you’re part of the problem and sticking around to fix it. 

Ok, that’s out of the way. Oh, wait, one more thing.  Yes I should probably get rid of Ms Batman now.  I can’t change the URL for this blog, so that’s going to have to stay, but my signature and other things can change.  I’m open for suggestions.  

Now.  Done with business.

Can I just say this, I’m pretty sure the closet Clay Aiken came out of this week is the same one Elton John used to be in years ago. 

If you have to tell people to ‘get over it’ when you decide to get married, maybe you ought to rethink the whole thing. 

Telling a person “I’ll buy if you fly” is not the same as actually taking them to lunch. 

Is it just me, or is it wrong to have a magazine in the bathroom at your place of employment?  Even if it is the private employee only bathroom and not the one for customers.  I mean, isn’t that just sort of an invitation to ‘camp out’ in there? 

Just a few things floating around in my head on a Friday afternoon

Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma – which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of other’s opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary. ~ Steve Jobs

He’s moving on.   He’s been online, on the very same dating website where we met.  Don’t ask me if he’s meeting people I don’t know, and frankly I don’t want to know.  I’m not ready, I’m pretty damn sure I’ll never date again.  I’m done.  Besides, by the time I actually find myself, well I’ll be too damn old to date anyway.  

You know, it only hurts when I’m alone.  When people ask me about it I’m strong and I can lay it all out logically why this is for the best.  I believe everything I’m saying and I stand behind it. 

Until I’m alone.  And I miss him.  Or I think of him with someone else.  That is my undoing. 

*sigh* I know, you’re all tired of hearing about it.  I’m tired of all of it.  I just wish I was over it already and all this ich was behind me.  But as they say the only way to the end is through it. 

I took care of some important business today.  Jumped a huge hurdle, and in the process, found out what I have to take care of next.  It’s not impossible, and it’s not insurmountable, and once it’s done, well, that will be a huge hurdle jumped.  All steps ‘in the right direction’ as he used to say.  Only problem now is that I’m walking that direction alone. 

So could someone please explain to me how it is that after two years (and a RING) he throws it all away, and moves on like it didn’t matter?  How does a person cut someone so completely out of their life that supposed to have meant so much to them that a month ago we were planning our future together?  He’s online, he’s on dating websites.  He’s changed his profile and he’s using pictures of himself THAT I TOOK.  And if that’s not a slap in the face I don’t know what the hell is.

This whole Batman thing, (I guess I really should get used to writing Break up because *ahem* that’s what it is, no matter how much I wish it wasn’t), has caused me to do a lot of thinking. 

One thing that I wanted very much in my therapy was to get to know myself.  I wanted to become authentic.  So much of the time I feel like I’m just phoning it in.  I feel as if I’m bluffing my way through life and if anyone were to call my bluff I’d be in the water. 

I hide behind a mask.  I hide behind this blog.  I hide behind dyed hair, fake nails, and a fake bake tan. I hide from myself. I grew up in a house where appearances were everything.  No matter the hell at home, the image presented to the public was the perfect daughter, part of the perfect family.  I truly believe that the image of the perfect family we pretended to be was cultivated to such, well, perfection, that had I actually told someone just how miserable life was for me behind closed doors, they wouldn’t have believed me.

So, for as long as I can remember, the real me has been shoved aside, buried behind the public persona I was required to have.  I don’t even know the real me. 

But part of being in a relationship is intimacy.  Not just physical, that’s easy.  Emotional intimacy.  Letting your partner know the real you.  Trusting them with your deepest, darkest, ugliest secret.  Opening your life to them so that there are no secrets. 

And that’s where I fail.  I can’t open myself up like that.  I can’t share my deepest darkest ugliest secret with anyone because frankly I can’t admit it to myself. 

I was raised to believe that the deepest, darkest secrets should be just that secrets, at all cost.  That if the truth were to come out it would spoil the perfect image everyone had of me, and well, that’s intolerable, unacceptable.  And by extension, I would be intolerable, and unacceptable. 

And so it is with Batman.  He knows the truth, there are ways to find it.  But when asked, I deny it, because I’m never really sure what he knows and what he doesn’t.  And I can’t admit to something he may not know.  Hell, I have problems admitting to things he already knows. 

It’s the fear of rejection.  The fear of finding out that again, the real me isn’t good enough, or acceptable.  Hell, let’s be honest, I reject the real me every time I color my red hair , every time I lay in a tanning bed so my pale skin is golden brown.  I can’t accept the real me, how can I possibly expect anyone else to?

And so, that’s my quest.  Get my together, so that the real me, inside, matches the me on the outside.  I want the me that everyone sees to be the authentic me.  Change the inside to match the ‘perfect’ outside.

Everyone I tell, has the same reaction, “This is probably for the best”.  My logical brain finds it hard to argue with that.  My heart is sometimes an entirely different matter. 

He brought me a box of my stuff.  He said “This is everything from the bedroom.”  It hurt to look in that box and see my clothes, my shoes, my life with him.  I ignored it for over 4 hours. 

This morning, going through it, looking for a sweater I knew was at his house, I realized that he didn’t pack up everything from the bedroom.  He packed up everything I told him I wanted, and a few other things that had been there for months but I had never used there.  There were things missing. A lot of things.  All things that I know he knew are mine. 

And yet he didn’t send them back.  

I sat there wondering, did he over look them?  Did he purposely not send them?  Did he keep them for the same reason I didn’t want everything back?  Because if there are still things of mine there, there is hope that I’ll be back someday, and I’m not entirely gone.  Am I reading way too much into something that probably means nothing to him?  If I call him and ask him, I’m afraid he will box them up too and send them back right away. 

Maybe I should just go get them and be done with it.  Just get the rest of my life with him, and sever all ties with him.  Except I don’t know that I’m entirely ready to do that.

To say that his mother has something to do with this would be an understatement.

To say that they are both codependent would be just the tip of the iceberg.

To say that I can’t save him, and right now he can’t save himself because he can’t admit that he’s in trouble, is simplifying a very complex situation.

Add to that the death of his father, the engagement of his ex wife, the stress of a drunk mother, and the added responsibility of taking over what his dad left behind (see how he can be codependent?) and well, you’re looking at a powder keg waiting to explode.

Except that he implodes.

But this is my blog. Not his. He is a part of my life, but not the whole of my life. I have been told by everyone that this is for the best. I am beginning to think maybe they are right. At least for now. Maybe for good. Like him, I don’t know what the future holds, and I won’t rule out any possibilities.

But I won’t sit here wishing my life away, waiting for the problems to fix themselves. They won’t.

I can’t save him. I can’t fix his problems. I can save myself and fix my problems. But that isn’t the whole of the solution. It’s only part.

Part of one of our recent conversations went like this:

Me: We know you can quote chapter and verse what I’ve done wrong in the past two years, and can expound on those sins longer than War and Peace. You’ve been doing it for three weeks now and I’m feeling rather beat up. So, for a change of pace, do you think you could possibly tell me what I did right in the past two years?

Batman: You were there when I really needed you and it’s greatly appreciated. You were a great friend.

Me: A friend? That’s the best you can do after two years? That is sad. You kept score, and kept tallies of all I did wrong for two years, and everything I did for you went unnoticed and completely unremembered. Know what’s really sad? I only remember the good things you did over two years, and have a hard time remembering any of the bad things you did, so I can’t even go tit for tat with you. I focused on the happy, you kept score of the bad.

I am not saying that I am perfect. I know that I’m not. Believe me I’ve been reminded of how unperfect I am the past few weeks. I really have felt beat up with all the hits I’ve taken. But I’ll own my own shit. I’ll admit yes I did that, yes I did that. Yes it was wrong. He will admit that yes he did this and yes he did that, but won’t admit that it was wrong. He will justify his actions by saying he did what he did because I did what I did. He is in essence blaming me for his wrongdoings.

He wants me to take responsibility for my life.

Hello Pot? This is kettle? Are you still black? Yeah, me too.

I didn’t start this to beat him up. After all, he’s not here to defend himself. Besides, we’ve hashed this out and rehashed it. We’ve gone around in so many circles I’m dizzy. In the end, there is no resolution. Nothing gets solved and we’re both exhausted.

So, for now, it is for the best. I can’t save him, and I can’t make him see that he needs to save himself. It breaks my heart to have to walk away from him, but staying would hurt me more. I have my own issues and problems to work on. The best thing I can do for me is deal with my own problems. I have to let him go. Walk away, but I won’t shut any doors. It’s always open if/when he ever wants to walk through my door again.

I know I already wrote a post today.  I already have tomorrow’s done too.  Tomorrow’s is more hopeful than today’s but then again, I wrote tomorrow’s yesterday.  (Lost yet?)

I’m angry. I’m hurt.  I’m sad.  I’m resigned.  I’m overwhelmed.  I’m determined.  I’m exhausted.  I’m pissed off.  I’m lonely. 

I want to go to bed and pull the covers over my head.  I want him to call.  I want to have the courage to ignore the phone when he does.  I want to talk to him and at least find the friendship we once had.  I want to tell him to go fuck himself. 

I want him to miss me. I want him to hurt.  I want to know he’s as miserable as I am.  I want to know he has shed tears over this.  I to know that he misses sleeping next me.  I want him to look at all of my stuff in his house and remember the fun we had and know he threw it all away.

And for what?

Happiness?

“I’m not happy” he said.  Well la tee fuckin’ da who the hell is happy every single minute of every single day?  Life isn’t always happy.  But most people chose to stay and work through whatever the problem is.  Because they made a promise and they made a commitment. 

What about promises?  What about committments?  So if we did happen to get married, would your vows have been I promise to love honor cherish you and stick around through all the fun happy times but when life interferes I’m out of here?

Throw it all away.  That’s how I feel.  I feel thrown away, discarded, dismissed.  It would be so much easier if I could just stay mad at him.  I could avoid the hurt if I could just find the hate.  Because isn’t hate just as passionate as love?  Just on the opposite ends of the spectrum? 

I can’t hate him. Even when I hurt.  I can’t stay mad at him, because I miss him.  Even now, the logical reasons I know why this is for the best aren’t enough to stop this hell I’m in.

This is normal right?

I’m sorry. I know I said I wouldn’t write about this shit any more.  Today it consumes me.  Maybe tomorrow too.  I don’t know.  I just know that today is almost more than I can stand up to.

The tears that have been absent since it all happened, the tears I’ve been unable to shed, fall today unstoppable.  Finally the grief that has been elusive comes.  The hurt is overwhelming.  I feel abandoned and the hope, the dream, all of it gone.

The emptiness left in it’s place sits like an elephant on my chest.  There is a whole in my life, an emptiness inside of me, the place he used to be echoes now with his absence. 

He’s never coming back.  Don’t ask me how I know, I can’t put into words. I just know in my heart, in my soul, he’s never coming back.  He’s shut me out of his life like I no longer exist and he’s gone on without me.  Never looking back.

Because to look back would mean he cared, and he would have to see the hurt and the devistation he’s left.  He doesn’t want to face that.  So he walks away. 

And I crumble.  But I don’t fall apart.  I gave him 2 years of my life.  I promised him forever.  I didn’t take any of that lightly, nor will I ever.  It’s only normal that I should crumble and cry and grieve. 

But he will not destroy me. 

So today is the day for the tears.  The overwhelming weight of the acceptance that I will never be with him again.  The hopes and the dreams, the life and the future we planned lay shattered.  I’ll pick up the pieces and put them away.  Out of sight out of mind.  Maybe that’s how he does it.  I don’t know. 

It doesn’t matter now anyway.  He’s gone, never to return again.  And I have to find a way to get on with getting on.