So while this blog is about a New Beginning, I still need to process what that means exactly. So it’s also going to be about Josh and our relationship. At least for a little while. Just so I can process and move forward. I always think better when I write.
I needed to prove to him that it was going to be different this time.
I knew that meant I was going to have to drive to his work. I couldn’t do it after work, I knew he had plans… but I figured I only needed a minute or two, so maybe his lunch?
I showered. Put on my brightest and shortest dress. I knew there was no point in makeup, I’ve been non-stop crying. I stood in front of the mirror for a few minutes… just staring at my reflection. Does this show too much cleavage? What am I going to do here? Throw all of our plans to the wind? Stop delaying, let him know I’m not willing to lose him over this. We can start our plans now. Today. I look beautiful… but my eyes just look so lost. I almost didn’t recognize myself. Doesn’t matter, I love this man. I’m going to do it.
So I drove to his work. Hands shaking. I was softly crying in my car, remembering all of the things he said over the past day. Trying to figure out how to get everything out and how to get him to come outside. Silently praying he’d pick up. Then his car pulled up. She got out of the back seat. My heart shattered even further, if that’s even possible.
He couldn’t even wait a day.
As the door closed behind him, the sobs set in. I was trembling.
His words ringing in my ears, that he was going to fuck his coworker. That our 10 year relationship didn’t matter.
I just kept breathing. I got it now though. Through the complete and utter heartbreak… the throbbing pain, realization set in.
I get it now. I give up.
You’re going to be okay.
This isn’t love. This isn’t real love. There has to be something… someone better than this.
I am beautiful. I am brilliant. I have a kind heart.
This isn’t about her. She isn’t better than me. This is about him.
He doesn’t know how to be faithful, loyal, or kind. We’ve done this for 10 years. I tortured myself trying to make it work. It’s not ever going to work. He isn’t the kind of man I need. This isn’t about him. It’s about you, beautiful girl.
Monica, you are the sun. You are warm, kind, and beautiful. You deserve someone so much better.
You feel broken now. That’s okay. Take the time to heal. All broken wings will mend. You’ll fly again soon.
The throbbing pain began to ebb away.
My mind was still racing. With the realization, something else began to set in. Hatred. Last week we were planning a wedding. We were picking out rings. I was trying on dresses. I sent an email to a wedding photographer, for the elopement that we had planned.
Yeah, it’s fucked up. It is. I just don’t have to be fucked up because of it. I don’t have to stoop to his level. I don’t have to show hatred back.
I need to find something to be thankful for.
“Be thankful you didn’t marry him. You could’ve been stuck forever.” a little voice whispers in the back of my mind. It’s almost so low I can’t hear it. I started repeating it to myself out loud. At first it came out in whispers. Then louder. As I said the words, I found something that wasn’t there before… strength. Another deep breath. I’m thankful I met him. I learned that I’m willing to fight even the most difficult of odds. That I am strong. That I can endure anything.
Another voice whispers in the back of my mind. “You’re unlovable. How could they love you? You’re not enough.”
I now recognize that voice for what it is. My mothers. It’s full of hate and venom. Full of something else… jealously?
Am I really unloveable? My parents don’t love me. My siblings don’t love me. Well… maybe they do in their sick and twisted way. In those moments when their love wasn’t enough… Josh loved me in those moments. He had made me feel whole. Lovable.
He can’t fix me. Only I can. Only my love can…. what if I started fighting and loving myself as much as I fought for and loved him? What would happen then?
Is this a pattern in my life where I choose men who can never truly love me? Because that’s all I know from my childhood. I only know the feeling of emptiness, or always feeling never enough, despite always trying so damn hard. Do I keep choosing men who continue to do the same? Just to repeat the pattern?
My breathing finally returned to normal. I picked up my phone and called him. It went to voicemail. So I texted him one last time. I told him that I came by, what I saw, and I understood now and I gave up.
Then I drove away. I looked back in my rear view mirror one last time and whispered “Goodbye, Josh”