I was ALIVE.

January 13, 2024

The series Farewell Letters chronicles the heartache of a situationship turned more for me and ONLY me.

I just heard this song and the lyrics say “I didn’t just live, I was alive.”  I think if I could sum up the last 3 months of my life with you in it, those would be the words I would use.  I wasn’t even sure living was what I wanted, much less feeling alive.

You made me feel alive again.  Alive to trust, to risk, to be vulnerable, to hope, to care, to laugh, to smile, to touch, to kiss, to share, to share sooooo much, to hurt, to cry.

So I’ve struggled with “what does that mean for me now?” and “was I so caught up in my own head that I missed how one-sided it all was?”  “How do I not end up here again?”  Maybe I was the only one putting it all out there?  Geez, I shared more about myself and my feelings with you than I have with anyone else in the last decade of my life.  And in retrospect, I wouldn’t do anything any differently.  Actually, maybe I would.  I would have demanded more from you.  And I would have spoken up when I disagreed.  I was so afraid that you would misunderstand things that I stopped speaking up when something you said bothered me.  I fought when you walked away, every time.  I communicated when I was hurt and sad and I needed more from you.  I needed you to validate my feelings whether you agreed, understood, or not.  I made myself so incredibly vulnerable, risking so much with the constant fear of abandonment and rejection.  The truth is… I would do it all again so I could learn to feel alive like I do now, maybe with just more boundaries and clearer intentions.

For years, I had stopped feeling altogether- happy or sad.  I just went through the motions of life working, raising kids, trying to be a decent human.  I was so numb from living in constant unhappiness, I thought nothing could hurt me any more or any worse.  Boy was I wrong.  I lost my rock.  I lost the only person that questioned me, that challenged me, that forced me to look deeper.  I lost the want to live in the present.  I wanted to live in the past and trudge through old memories and regrets.  My mom was so much to me.

Barely two months had passed since my mom’s death and my separation when you showed up.  I was so broken and most days, I couldn’t keep my head above water.  I couldn’t smile.  I couldn’t laugh.  I could only cry.  I have never felt such profound sadness and grief.  You were easy to talk to.  You asked me questions that took my mind off the day-to-day struggles.  But I was so acutely aware how things would get lost in translation and sarcasm time and time again with us. 

However, I was convinced that in the end, you saw the real me and knew my heart and intentions (even though I was terrified to share them).  Regrettably, I don’t think it was until the last few days that I really saw things without my rose-colored glasses on.  In retrospect, I was the only one fighting the entire time.  Every 4 weeks, almost to the day, I would get the message that I’m “too much” or our personalities “would never work.”  Honestly, I just thought it was all bullshit.  Who knows anything about personality from text messages?  Especially when I felt like you were taking things personally and putting up a defense.  Regardless, I was never “it” for you and you were never emotionally available to me. You never let me in.  You always had your guard up.   Maybe it was more physical for you?  I’m not sure.  I’m not sure why it was the SAME thing every time and you were resistant to discussion and communication and seeing what that may even look like in a mature conversation.  

I assume you think that there’s a timeline and everything should be completely perfect for the first x days/months/years and if not, it’s red flags for the future.  I don’t see things the same way and that’s ok.  I think the green flags are having a misunderstanding, discussing it, sharing both sides, coming to an agreement and understanding and choosing to move forward with dedication and fortitude and respect for the other person.  I think misunderstandings are imperative to determining communication styles, attachment styles, and shared resolutions.  I think it’s much easier to have those earlier on and work through them than to dedicate months and months of “rose colored perfection” only to end up at the same conclusion.  I felt like you just took them as red flags and never tried to see what working through things may feel like.

I don’t think I’ll ever understand why you absolutely refused to try to communicate with me and instead just turned it all off regardless of what it did to me.  Each time, I felt less and less confident that you were in it for the long haul.  In fact, I reviewed our entire conversation from day one because you said that neither of us wanted “relationships.”  Wow.  That was really a kick in the gut and to me came out of left field.  Actually, that had never once been communicated by either of us.  We definitely agreed that we weren’t interested in marriage or getting our kids involved in anything, but that dating, albeit imperfect, would be challenging with life, but not impossible.  But I was so scared to bring it up again.  I was so afraid that I would lose you and I was scared to see what that would look like.  In the end, it happened anyway and I’m still confused as to what happened. 

I wasn’t happy with how I addressed the surgery thing, but I immediately explained, apologized and tried to rectify.  I think that’s what we are supposed to do in life when we fuck up.  Admittedly, I am so far from perfect.  And I haven’t felt secure in this since the beginning.  Every 4 weeks, I find myself feeling abandoned and never enough.  I have never yelled.  I have never name called.  I have never said anything negative about you- not once.  I have praised your skills, your parenting, your intelligence, your passion, your knowledge, your family relationships.  And I still feel the same, despite how broken and inadequate I feel. 

In the end, I made those choices.  I chose to over-share when you didn’t ask for it.  I chose to trust and care when you maybe weren’t feeling the same.  I chose to ignore repeatedly you telling me that I wasn’t the one for you.  I chose to risk it all to feel alive.  And fuck, I feel hurt and disappointed and sad and heartbroken… but dammit, I’m feeling.  I’m able to feel.  I’m able to experience emotions and hope again.  I’m able to see the future, to want a future again.  I’ve rewritten a list of things to do before I die.  I’ve put a plan to get into shape and start some hobbies I’ve wanted to try.  I’ve planned some hiking trips with my brother.  I stood up to a surgeon I respect and love and told her I wasn’t sure I wanted the same thing I set out 4 years ago to schedule.  I started writing again.  I started reading.  I started taking care of myself again- my hair, my nails, my body.  I started remembering the independent, strong, and sassy, but vulnerable and emotionally present person I am.  I’m not going to change that.  I’m not going to stop talking about things that bother me.  I sat quiet for so many years in my marriage just taking it.  I deserve more.  I deserve to be loved in my crazy and in my finest hours.  We all have moments of crazy and cool.  What defines us is learning to calm and claim the crazy and it only comes from being around strong, supportive humans that let us know it’s okay to not be perfect.  We are loved in spite of those imperfections. 

I don’t think I’ll ever hear from you again.  That’s ok too.  I’ve already prepared myself for that and each time you step away for a few days without any explanation, the hurt has been a little less intense.  It’s like I’m coming to expect it from you.  Despite all of this, I would still take you and your crazy any day over everything else I’ve experienced in life.  I adore you.  I treasure you.  Most importantly, I respect you.  I always just wanted the same in return… for my feelings to matter too.