I Loved Him

Maybe it is the holiday's. Maybe the darkness of the season. Maybe it is seeing the depth of my Grandparents love since my Grandfather had a stroke. Yeah, that's probably it. Whatever the reason, I have been thinking about how much I loved Andrew, and just how hurt I am upon reflecting that I do not think that love was returned, at least not in the same way.

I remember one of the last interactions I had with him was finding a spiral notebook and flipping for a clear sheet of paper, I came across what appeared to be a list of some sort. After reading it, it was the most heart-wrenching list I had ever read in my life. He had made a list of things he wanted in a woman - these are the things I remember: someone younger, thinner, into more activities, more fun... Those are just what I remember, the list was much longer.

As you can imagine, then, as well as now, I just cried. The kind of tears that come from a dark and broken place.  He didn't love me. How long ago was it that he fell out of love with me? Why didn't he talk to me about what he wanted? Instead, alone, I found his list of wants. I am not getting any younger, I am certainly not thin, I didn't understand what he meant about activities, since I always asked him to do things and he was never interested in doing them - did he offer ideas? no. I guess I am no fun either. Reading these things felt like a punch in the tummy, the face. I felt beat up.

You are probably wondering if I confronted him. I did. I tearfully handed him the list, and simply walked away. He said he was so sorry that I had read it, and that he never intended for me to find it.

I did find it. Even though it was a year and a half ago, the wound is still fresh. It still oozes. It has infected my sense of self and overall worth as a woman, as a partner.

What is Love?

How can love hurt and feel so amazing all at the same time? How does this dichotomy exist? How can something that we have been gifted with hurt so badly? How can it cause me to feel so alive? These questions rattling around in my head.

I got married, very young. It was not a mistake. No, I would not have done it differently. I know I would not be who I am today without Andrew. He loved and supported me as I became an adult. We loved and supported each other. We were children when we got married, we were adults when we got divorced.

Children love like children, this is a truth that doesn't completely make sense to me yet. However, I now see love as far more complex than I did at 20, and I expect I will feel differently again as I get older. But, at 31, things have changed. As a child, I saw love as simple, easy, and a right that was mine to take. As an adult, love is hard, it takes work, and it is my responsibility to give as much as I receive, and maybe sometimes, give more. Sure, there are times when it all comes easy, and Lord knows, I relish those moments, but they are fleeting.

My relationship now is not easy in the least. We have been through more trials and tribulations that I care to count, and sadly, I know there will be more to come. Why do I continue in such madness? Is is as simple as I love him? Am I crazy? Stupid? All of the above? Probably. Somehow, I don't seem to have power over this thing called love. And I am OK with that. Does it cause me grief? Hell yes. Does it bring me joy? Also, Hell yes! What can any of us do when we are hopelessly in love?

I suppose I will continue to simply let Life unfold in front of me. The dreams that float around in my head are at least worth trying. This is how I honor Divine Intervention, I try and be open to the possibility of life. The area of Love is something I keep learning about, new lessons, new ideas, new paths. I suppose all we can do is just have faith.

Saying Good-Bye Hurts

But fate ordains that dearest friends must part.  ~Edward Young

Saying good-bye is hard. Do you really know what it means? It comes from “God be with you” from the 14^th century. I am not referring to the sweet, “until we meet again”, kind of good-bye. This is the kind of good-bye that is the death of something you love.

Meeting with my soon-to-be “ex-husband” this past week has stirred the pain of my wound. And in exploring this wound, discovered that it isn’t saying good-bye to him that is the hardest part, it was the drive home, when I was daydreaming about all the lost dreams.

So many dreams are dying with this divorce. We had always talked about going to Europe together. I had always dreamed about having children with this man. I had envisioned what they would look like, what it would be like to have them in his arms.  The home that we created together is being surgically dissected, one cardboard box at a time. These are the things that I mourn, along with the man that I vowed to spend the rest of my life with… It was to be his old eyes I was to look into…

But none of those things will come to pass, and the agony of that reality is killing me. I can’t seem to stop thinking about all those things that will never be. I am stuck in this perpetual state of wanting to change something that cannot be changed. You can’t cheat death.

I suppose, I am simply supposed to sit in it. Allow myself to mourn, whatever that means?! How will I know I am done with it? Will it always torment me?

I am not ready to say good-bye but I am getting closer to being ready to let God be with him.