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I really don't know why I'm compelled to share this. I suppose it's because I've shared so many other major life events, so why not this one? Why not the L of all L's? Why not one of the most painful situations I've ever been faced with... after a lifetime fucking full of them? Why the fuck not? So here's a long ass stream of consciousness that will otherwise be known as "TLDNR"..... but I just need to get it out right now so I don't wake up my people.
Times like this I wish I was a drinker. Instead, I'm eating a grilled cheese sandwich while swilling down half a two liter of Coke at 1 am like some 36 year old gamer in his mom's basement. Only I'm a 36 year old father who just sold his second home because cutting his losses and making sure his family- the only fucking long term stability I've ever known in life- is secure and well positioned for the future.
I'm not surprised, but then I'm surprised. And that makes no goddamned sense whatsoever.
You know what really hurts about this? The part that feels like I've been gutted by Rambo himself? This boils down to shit I called out very early on, and even tried to leave over. I was never *really* what she wanted. Apparently I wasn't her type from jump, but she found a lot to admire about me and just figured that would be enough.
Only, in that first year, I'd consistently call out the fact that, hey, it doesn't seem like I'm the guy for you since you seem to dislike a lot of things about me. The way I ate, for example. What I ate, how I ate, how I dressed, the fact that I posted on this weird ass message board okayplayer.com, you name it. It always seemed like she had a laundry list of things she didn't like about me. And since, as my name strongly implies, I'm more or less a matter of fact guy, I'd acknowledge those things.
One night I had enough and told her she needed to find someone who fit whatever it was she wanted, because I damn sure wasn't it. She chased my ass down the stairs, all through the apartment complex, and stood in front of my car door so I couldn't get in. I eventually gave in, thinking shit.... she obviously feels something for me that's deeper than this other shit.
Turns out, she was in love with the way I treated her. She liked the loyalty I demonstrated with the people I cared about. When we had our first child? She saw that I was a good father. She liked the way I encouraged her to first be true to herself, that I cared more about how she felt about something than how it made me feel. Do I like that shirt on you? Hey, do YOU like it? You feel comfortable in that? Then rock that shit!
She liked that when she went on her natural hair journey and all the women- her mother included, first, foremost and loudest, in fact- in her life told her she had nappy ass hair and couldn't pull it off, *I* told her to kill that noise and embrace herself, as herself, in whatever form she felt most comfortable, empowered, and true. She liked how, when she wanted to add braids and she asked if it was cool, I looked at her like a deer in headlights, because she already knows my answer: you do what makes you *happy*. She liked that I wrote her college papers.
She liked..... what I did for her, how I made her feel about herself, things like that. Not a lot about me, just who I was/am, the person, but what I did for her or other people.
I get it. One friend of mine once told me that I'm an "acquired taste", and that it took her a minute but one day she just sort of understood me and where I was coming from... but again... that took time. And my wife just sort of thought that next level of feeling would develop, and it didn't. But I get it. For all my pluses and best efforts, I'm sure it's no picnic being around me through my ups and downs.
She admitted that my general pessimism was a drain on her all these years. I still, to this day, eat like a trucker and never really took much interest in improving those terrible habits. The fact that I only push so hard for so long at something before I say fuck it, this shit isn't going to work out, so what's the point?
Ahem*timemachine*ahem.
Except, you know, this. It's not like I was 100% ecstatic with everything about her at all times. I made several efforts over the years to bridge the growing distance. Shit I've spoken with several OKP's about this, at length, offline, over the years. Hell the day her and I started dating, I had quit my job at a temp agency because I was sick of being treated like replaceable dogshit. I always quit or went awol on situations that got hard enough that I decided I'd rather take some other consequence instead. But not this. Even if things were less then ideal, I had hope for us long term. There were so many things that made us work so well, so even if things weren't perfect, I'd remind myself that no relationship is. I wasn't perfect and definitely had my missteps, but never, ever, for a fucking moment, after that day in her apartment very early on, did I ever not want to be with her.
After we sold the first house and moved to my old town, where all my people were, she felt isolated. She finally admitted that was going through severe postpartum that she wouldn't cop to, but it was obvious. Then she quit her job, partly at my urging, and did that lularoe bullshit, partly at my urging. And that kicked off a year long depression in her that got downright scary at times. Again, there are a few people here who know just how deep that shit got.
She's been a complete ghost to me for long while. So we sold the house at a nice profit, downsized, got us in a prime location where we each drop a child off at their destination and get to work in twenty minutes. closer to her friends, her family, etc. No commute, once again cash solvent, and I thought we were on the road to rebuilding.
Wrong.
She's much more of a ghost. So we eventually addressed a gazillion things and the one constant here is that she just doesn't want to be with me. There's nothing there to work on, to counsel. Counseling can't give her feelings she doesn't have, not when she admits that she's always known I loved her in that way much, much more than she loved me in that way. You know the other rambo knife here? Our wedding, our daughter? Those were things she pushed for. She did that thinking that the more we "did life" together, the more those feelings would develop.
I realize this post is a fucking mess, darting a million directions and pulling at threads I never fully unravel. There are lot of blanks in my telling. That's how it feels inside. It's fucked up. She's still the best thing that ever happened to me. My life has done a complete 180 since we met. I never had anything resembling the sort of stability I've enjoyed these last 9 years. We're still friends. We're still living together, at least until this lease is up late next year. I have no clue how to break this to our daughter, when the time comes.
I have no idea how to deal with all the old, locked away baggage that spills out every day. Talk about triggered. So much for breaking cycles, right? So much for triumphing over that patchwork transient childhood. I feel all that shit now. That fucking weight man... one minute I'm wallowing. The next, I'm a zombie. ThenI'm Superman, ready to handle business like a goddamned champ. The next? Self loathing, feeling sorry for myself, and wishing I would have blown my brains out long before I met her.
Of course, now that's not even an option since I have two kids. What the fuck was I thinking, making other people? So I have to do the old pick myself, dust myself off, blah blah blah routine again, if for no other reason than to make sure they're not dealing with shit like this thirty years from now. I'm tighter than ever with my inner circle. I'm good, or at least will be. I have the tools and support to get through this but goddamn.... that weight is heavy.
All I know is that in this moment, I needed to get this shit off my heart. Sorry for the long, sordid mess.
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