Memorial Day weekend is over, and at this time last year, so was my relationship. Seems like a lifetime ago. I almost feel like I imagined it. Him. The ring. The move. Everything.
And then I remember… I didn’t.
That weekend was 72 long hours of misery. I was in a town where I knew no one. And anyone I DID know would surely have noticed that I no longer had my ring on. I wasn’t prepared to handle what that meant. I was frozen.
So I stayed alone inside a condo in limbo. I’d unpacked most of my stuff, but not everything. We’d started painting the place, but never finished. It was torture -- waiting for the other shoe to drop. Now, here we are a year later. My family and friends have been so sweet about checking in on my schedule this weekend (and I love them for it) because they were worried about me.
But I’m actually good.
It’s been a YEAR. FINALLY! So I can stop thinking, “A year ago at this time, we [insert incredibly sad memory].” I’m positive he moved on AGES ago -- before we even broke up, I'm guessing. And I’d be lying if I said I never thought about him. I do.
(Not in a get-back-together kind of way -- you don't get to set someone's life on fire and come back from that. Ever.)
But whenever I do think about him, it annoys me. I look back at how devastated I was, how much blame I gave myself, how humiliated I felt. I was sick to my stomach. Used. Spent. What I really wish I felt was anger!
Here was a grown man who came on like gangbusters, aggressively pursuing me at all stages of our relationship to the point that he proposes after just 7 months. His family even threw us an engagement party! He lets me give up my whole life to move in with him, and then has the nerve to change his mind.
Me and YOU? Oh. Yeah... not so much.
There was virtually no emotion. On his end, anyway. The best explanation he could muster was that he was “done.” He thought as a couple, we worked on Tuesdays and weekends, but we did not work every day.
Newsflash: Relationships are every day. So are marriages.
Anyway, you might recall that my very first breakup post was named for a song that I couldn’t get out of my head. Let You Down by Dave Matthews. I don’t even know what the lyrics mean, to tell you the truth. Interpreting songs has never been my strong suit. But “I let you down” rang in my ears over and over and over again while I packed my things.
At the time, I couldn’t find a picture to depict how I was feeling, so it’s the only post I’ve ever written without one. I won’t post a picture here either, but I will post a video:
Every time I hear Rolling in the Deep by Adele, I wish this song was invented at the time of my breakup. It would have been a FAR better anthem. She gets it. The anger over what could have been. And what never was.
“We could have had it all.” I understand THAT. And don't think I haven't been tempted to "lay his shit bare."
The fact is, if we could have had it all… we would have. I wish I knew this back then, it would've saved me a lot of tears. But I know it now.
All these months later, I'M the one who's "done." Finally.