Another part of me wants to rail against this, all of this, against her, knash my teeth and shake my fists with rage. I have done awful things, to her and to others, but all life is a two way street. She hurt me too, in ways I am becoming more certain she does not understand.
For a while, in the midst of blaming myself, I was even convinced that the ways that SHE hurt ME were MY fault. Some of them were, but not all of them. She was never affectionate to me, she constantly kept me at arms length. I was always fascinated, even for years before we were lovers, at how she could be such a strong person and have seemingly so little faith in herself. Now, while I can understand that it is hard to be affectionate to someone you do not feel is supportive of you, I also know that had she reached out a little more often I might have seen how much more support she needed. Because I needed support from her as well, and I didn’t get much from her. Again, always a two way street.
During the two and a half years that we were together, I have been through the most massive professional upheaval of my life. I lost my job, three times. I have been steadily employed my entire life, since I was 16 except for my first year of college. I was in an awful position at my first long term job here in Austin, backed into a corner by a boss who was stealing from me (it turns out, he was stealing from everyone). I got out of that awful situation with such a bad taste in my mouth, I was never able to be successful or happy at another job like it again. I was miserable, and though she says she wanted to encourage me to do more, to be more, I never felt it. We never talked about anything serious, ever. Our communication was so fundamentally different, I don’t think we were capable of the kind of support that we were looking for from each other.
She felt I was not supportive of her career. I tried to be, I really did. I was so proud of her, I talked about her job, bragged about her to others, constantly. I should have done that with her, told her I was proud of her. Her world was very alien to me, and I reacted badly to it. She began more and more to shove me away. When her coworkers invited their friends and family to things, I heard about it after the fact. The one thing I was invited to, she largely ignored me, and I had to force conversations with her coworkers.
For a time, i really felt that she never respected what I did, at all. She tried to be supportive of the first job I had when she moved here, and in those first few months we were together, ALMOST everything was wonderful. She made friends with my coworkers, as best she could, and I even got her little sister a job there, hoping to help her make friends in Austin as well. Yet, she always viewed my job, my life, as somehow bad. I know that she is a wonderful mother, and that my life at that time was not conducive to a family life. It’s the life I had been in for almost 10 years at that point, it was a part of me she knew about going in. She used to say disdainful things about my “being out” all the time, about my “lifestyle”, and it made me feel like a deviant, like something dirty. I always enjoyed the bar business, was happy at work, was thinking from a work mindset while out on my nights off, when I had them. I also wanted to see her, spend as much time with her as I could, but it was difficult for us, for me, because she insisted on separating herself from it and looking down her nose at it, at least that’s how I felt. She looked at me with such disdain, I didn’t even know how to talk to her about it. This is when we started not communicating, and when I started to really be afraid that we would not work out. We are built so differently, it now seems amazing in some ways that we stayed together as long as we did. I’m changed now, my life is moving in scary new professional directions, and I like some of it. It also motivates me to strive for the goals that I came to this town for in the first place, and I am very glad of that. These are the first steps, and they are hard. I fall a lot, like an emotional toddler.
We spent 15 months without touching each other, ever. I began to realize that she wasn’t in love with me anymore. I also realized that, while I loved her still, in fact loved her more than I have ever loved anyone in my life, that I wasn’t romantically IN LOVE with her anymore. That sounds so trite, but I don’t have another way of saying it right now.
I was hurt, by her, by my own feelings, more than I have been in years. I did something awful, but not for the reasons people think, not for the reasons she thinks. I was in so much pain. pain that I didn’t even understand it at the time. My denial was palpable, ever present, like a ringing in my ears. I wanted out, I’ve never had the urge to run so badly.
I was with someone else, not out of spite or anger. It was horribly selfish, and I can never apologize for it to her, to anyone. But it wasn’t malicious. I did it for me, because I wanted it, I wanted her. I also did it because, genuinely, I really liked her, the other girl. I was attracted to her, fascinated by her, energized in a way that I had not been in so, so long. The undertone of guilt was there in so many ways, but there was so much about her that I liked, that I still like. She was too young, for me at least, but she’s smart beyond her years, and funny in a way that few people get. Her vulnerability was so different, and that was what made her youth so appealing. She had the air of emerging from it, that yes, she was vulnerable, but she was growing through it, not just using it as an excuse to armor herself from everything and everyone. Sadly, in all of the mistakes I have made, she got hurt too. I am not making attempts at justification, I know I should never have done what I did. I was so broken, I had no business being involved in the affairs of anyone’s heart.
My heart was breaking, and has been broken ever since. The band-aid felt so good when we got back together. I missed her companionship, her friendship so much, but we should never have tried again. I am seeing that more every day. I can’t say we never should have tried at all, because I loved her so much, and have cared for her for so, so long, that I can’t imagine passing up the chance to explore it. I wish I had been a better person through it all, and genuinely hope that I can come out of this a better person. I know that, no matter how hard I try, I can’t get angry, I can’t knash my teeth. I can lose (and have lost) my temper in insane, embarassing moments, and there are flare ups, but it doesn’t last. The only things that last are fear and regret, overwhelming regret at the pain I have caused.
I childishly wish for anger to help me through this, but it isn’t there, none that is real, just my juvenile temper shoving me in the wrong directions, and I fight to keep it under control. I don’t really want to use anger or hate to understand this, because I know if I do, it is all there will ever be between us. I don’t know that there will ever be anything else, but I’d rather have nothing between us than to have hate.
I have never wished more for penance, but there is none. I don’t deserve it.