Friday, January 4, 2013

Oops, I did it again

I called The Runner last night (even louder collective sigh of disapproval). He didn’t answer.  I didn’t leave a message. I melted down. I wanted to hear him tell me why, from beginning to end, that things happened.  Really, I wanted him to tell me I was good enough, I was loveable. Double Down and Mulan talked me off the ledge. Mulan, a former single mom, said that she’s been there before & I have to delete the number.  That this is on him, not me. Double Down saying the same (accompanied by many words of understanding though I insisted I was broken, he insisted I was emotional and would be stronger as a result). I wanted The Runner to call back because it would make me feel better but realized it would only a band aid. Even if he told me what I wanted to hear, it wouldn’t fix the problem, it would only make me feel better. Only I can fix this problem. I need to know I’m ok. If he says it, it doesn’t change anything until I believe.

I was on the phone when he called back so I let it go to voicemail (normal for me).  He left a voicemail saying he saw my call, was just driving home, give him a ring back if I want & he’ll be around.  I didn’t call back. Both Mulan & Double Down urged me to let it go. I don’t owe him an explanation and inviting any type of interaction even if to say “oops, Grace accidentally dialed you”, was too much.  So I deleted him number. Then I deleted the secret place I put it after deleting it. 

I feel raw. And vulnerable. And stupid. I reread at the email I sent him the day after ending things. I was so strong and clear. How did I go from that place of strength to twisting this around and telling him I want this to work. Although in truth, I was trying to leave an opening in that email, I remember hoping he’d write back and say he’d fix it. I never thought he’d just walk away.

I don’t understand why he said he didn’t want to lose me the night I ended it. And why he walked away the next day. I will never understand that.  But I’m focusing on what he’s thinking about me. I’m not thinking about what I was thinking about him – how hurt I was, how much anxiety he was causing by his vagueness and his ambivalence when they should have been excitement.

I feel awful. Stomach ache and all. I’m glad I don’t have his number. Because I keep obsessing in my head but at least now I can’t act on it. Because that feeling of a knife right in the gut when I called and got voicemail, I decided that has to be worse than anything else so I can’t allow that to happen again.

He’s gone. He’s gone. He’s gone.  And I’m still fighting the same fight in myself I’ve been fighting for years.  I’m tired.

*this was supposed to be published on January 4th, it may be showing up at the wrong time*

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