In all fairness, he moved but I did the actual emotional separation. He was worried I'd think he'd abandoned me. In some ways, he had. Phoenix was definitely not my first choice for this year and I ranked it higher than I would have if it had not been for him. Regardless, it's where Teach For America placed me and I would have moved wherever they ended up placing me. But there were some things early on in our relationship that a normal person would have let go. But no, not me. I internalize these things and I take them personally. Why? Why do I take everything so personally? Because I'm all I've got. Because, like my dad so kindly reminds me every few months or so, if I don't take care of myself, no one else will. And being mean is not taking care. It's not caring.
I think about everything I say before I say it. Well, for the most part. I won't be held responsible for the quick wit of my tongue. But if I think I might hurt someone with my words, I hold those words in for as long as possible to ensure that I really mean them. He didn't do that. He said what he was thinking and never really apologized for it, even if his opinions changed. Two months after one specific fight, he realizes that it's pretty normal for first year teachers to be working as much as I've been working. But he never apologized for the comments he had made. He never apologized for putting his future ahead of me and never mentioned it until yesterday.
Because he had a tendency to not think how I would take things, I had a tendency to take things personally. Because he knew that about me, I assumed he didn't care. I told myself he didn't really care. I convinced myself that he didn't love me. Although, I'm fairly certain that that's true. And I wouldn't let these things go because... Well, it didn't feel like he loved me. So I've spent these last six months looking for proof that he didn't love me. It wasn't hard to do. He rarely told me. I felt like I annoyed him. I didn't feel like myself. I wasn't what he wanted. In a woman or in a life. And I had myself convinced. He was abandoning me. He didn't love me.
But as I sat on the opposite end of a couch, I wondered if it had maybe been me all along. I put other people first. And I resented him for always wanting to spend time with me because I wanted more friends. And my goodness, I really do take everything personally. I could have made an effort to visit him. I could have taken a page from his book and just told him what I was thinking the first time I thought it. And asked a doctor for a prescription without quite so many side effects. I could have loved him. And I might. But as I laid on the opposite side of the couch and realized that he was lying down because it was his last defense, the words "so this is it?" just echoed in a room that had never echoed before. And I could do was apologize. Over and over. All I could say was sorry. Because I hadn't tried hard enough. Because I felt like I was abandoning him. I asked him if he ever thought about breaking up before and he'd said yes but never said why he didn't do anything about it. And we didn't talk about the fact that we didn't kiss when he walked in the day before. And he didn't hold my hand while walking. We didn't talk about that. We hugged and he left. He let me know he was back to his apartment, recommended a band and I haven't heard from him since. I fear I won't ever hear from him again--the only consistent person in my life for longer than a year is gone because... Because I scare easily. Fight or flight, right? I think this was both. I was fighting for myself, which is why I left.
I'm sorry that I wasn't all in. I'm sorry that I didn't let my defenses all the way down. That I didn't let you love me, if you had wanted to. That I was afraid to tell you the truth. That I didn't make you love me. That I waited so long to tell you. That I didn't try harder. That sometimes, I was afraid to talk to you. That I couldn't accurately describe that fear. That I miss you. I'm just so sorry that I hurt you.
I'm writing at a coffee shop because I need to catch up on work during break and I can't write much more right now without looking like that crazy girl in the corner. So I'm going to work on lesson plans. And I guess that I'm going to work on moving on. Isn't it supposed to be easy for the breaker?
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