Every man/boy I ever dated more than three times was told my conditions for a relationship.
1. Don’t ever hit me. I don’t care if we have six kids, I’ll leave.
2. I don’t share. If you want the pretty blonde, go for it, but I won’t stay.
3. Don’t lie to me. Three strikes and you’re out and so am I.
Pretty straight forward, almost so common sense one shouldn’t have to say them. Yet, these things happened. And I did what I said I would. I left. No second chances. No if ands or buts.
There are stages of married. As the marriage ages the more the lines blur between what constitutes a leaving offense. Chances are given, for the kids, for the money, for whatever the situation is. And each time a chunk of the foundation is chipped away. Little bits, hardly worth noticing. And then? A corner of the house falls.
Some plod on to the bitter end. Some call the game, while still others try to figure out how to jack the house up and fix the damage.
I’ve questioned my motives, my expectations, my everything.
Am I being realistic?
Shouldn’t I be happy with what I have?
He’s this, that, or the other thing, shouldn’t that count for something?
In this thorough inventory patterns were discovered.
A happens, B ensues – repentance happens. Then a different set of circumstances trigger another round, which is pointed out vigorously is different because – fill in the blank –
Things settle in. I see a glimpse of what should be. I start to hope, wish and trust a bit only for the bottom to drop out–Again.
Over the last year I’ve observed things closely, and you know what? I can predict when this stuff will happen. Predict it. Gee, do you suppose I should be angry with me for living with it for so long? Yep, volunteer, that’s me.
He’s responsible for his actions. I won’t take that on. What is my part is letting it go, believing time after time after time, that this time he was serious. This time it would get fixed.
So here we are with ‘this time’. Today I said no to him. Not a big deal you say? I’ve never denied him access to any of my accounts. I did today. He doesn’t need that password. He’s got a log in of his own, mine wasn’t necessary. Personal lines have to be drawn.
It hurt him, and for that I’m sorry. This is about taking care of me. We are where we are and I can’t shield myself from the pain of the situation, let alone him. It still sucks.
Can I wake up from this nightmare now? No? Well, okay, but I don’t like it.