I keep thinking I should post something; update here; bring this space up-to-date. Then I face the blank screen, and all the words of all the things, and I lose the energy or initiative. I just want to make myself a drink and sink into a book under my covers.
But I won’t. I will write words.
I’m back from Cuba. Beautiful country, enjoyable and challenging trip all at once, friendships forged. It was a thing that challenged me but I DID IT. So there.
Came back to North America (Toronto specifically) and spent two days and nights with M, my friend from the Chicago party and the organizer of the Cuba excursion. It was wonderful. We talked, we dined, we played. We like each other a lot. Things are progressing towards some kind of D/s-y LDR, though we are taking it slow as I work through my break-up with V.
Well. It happened. We made the final exchange of items last night. And then he texted me today to rehash things. I did for a bit until I finally said, “no more.” But I miss him. Or maybe I miss the idea of him? I’m not sure at this point, as every time we communicate I find myself pulling further and further away from him, shaking my head at the disconnect between us. Has it always been this way? It feels like the relationship he describes as he rehashes what happened is not even the one I was in with him. My daughter says he’s a narcissist. I don’t know. Like ADHD in children, I feel like that’s an overused layman’s diagnosis, but there are times when I wonder. Could I have been so wrong? Was I so desperate to fool myself that we fit? And then of course, questioning that, I question my ability to suss out the good humans from the not-good (for me.) I always thought I had a really good sense of people…
I mean, I know I did. I’ve been fortunate beyond belief to know and love and be loved by the people I do. And, I’ll be honest, I take some credit for being a good judge of character. I honestly don’t think I was a bad judge of character in this instance, but I do think there were other circumstances I should have considered. There *were* the proverbial red flags, there were many many times when I wanted to bail and chose not to, against my own better judgement, persuaded by his insistence that he could and would “make things better.” That just never happened. He wasn’t strong enough to advocate for our relationship when doing so meant standing up to her. And in order to justify that in his own mind, he had to make himself believe – and try to make me believe – that whatever-it-was wasn’t something he wanted anyway.
So yeah. There I was, here I am.
There’s other things going on. I’m moving soon, closing on my house. Packing is progressing slowly. I’m back in training mode, trying to build a new conditioning habit for the big backpacking trip we (daughter and I) are doing in June. Daily steps, weekly strength-building exercises, like that. M is helping in a pleasantly D/s-y way. He’s good at this, I’ll give him that, and many times, when a similar topic came up with V and the discussion left me puzzled or dissatisfied or confused, it doesn’t with M. But I’m so very very cautious, and careful, and a little bit gun shy. Where I threw myself, somewhat heedlessly, into things with V, I am proceeding with all due caution now. But I am coming at it from a different place, too. I am not the still-grieving woman I was four years ago. I am not the woman so desperate to feel something that wasn’t pain again that when a thing felt good I believed it was good. There were a great many things that were good about it, don’t get me wrong. But there were an equal number of things I should have questioned if they were good for me.
Okay. I have done my duty and wrote words.
Gah. Now I have tears. I miss him. I loved him and believed in him and believed in us for four years. Why didn’t he love me enough?
I still love him. I have a hole in my life where he used to be. But. The hole will heal over, or so I am told.