You asked me if I wanted you to stay or if I wanted you to go. I told you that I don’t like it when you give me ultimatums. Where is the ultimatum in that, you asked. It’s in the mere fact that you asked a leading question with only one acceptable answer. Rather than just enjoy the fact that you are were here. If you’re here, you’re here. Why would I ask you to go.
You asked me if I was willing to do whatever it takes to keep this relationship alive. I answered, “probably not”. I answered that because I don’t know what you mean by “whatever it takes”. No, I’m not willing to do whatever it takes. If it means slitting my wrists, no, I’m not willing. If it means compromising my relationship with my kids, no, I’m not willing. It’s an absolute question to which the only answer I can give that won’t be untruthful is “probably not”. It doesn’t mean that I won’t do anything. I have done SO MUCH. Do you even know? But that was then and this is now. And you said that was enough of an answer for you. And off you went. Again.
I can’t even count how many times you’ve walked out my door. How many times you’ve hung up on me. How many times you’ve lied to me. Yes, I know you’ve lied to me. Maybe not so many times that I can’t count them, but you have lied. You speak of how much I hurt you, and I don’t think you have even a remote idea of the hurt I feel and have felt. Nor do I want you to know. That’s more than enough for one person. I sense the pain you feel, and I have my own pain too. It’s always magnified.
I wish you understood me. You speak of partnership, and you see my unwillingness to go where you are, but it seems that you don’t see your own unwillingness to go where I am. I told you where I have to be. I am standing where I have to be. I am a mother. My children are demanding and I am trying to do my best to raise them well. It doesn’t mean that I think you’re not good enough for me, for us. It doesn’t mean that I reject you. It simply means that I choose them. I have to choose them. There. Is. No. Other. Choice.
Do you hear me? They are demanding. DEMANDING. The stamina required of me to maintain composure and remain firm and kind and loving and gentle and solid and good and strong takes nearly every bit of will that I have. I am weary. I am ragged. But this is my prime responsibility and this is what I must do.
This doesn’t mean that I don’t love you, that I don’t value you, that I don’t see your worth. It just means that I have absolutely no idea how to balance life with a relationship, children and work. I can barely, barely manage to hold it all together with just children and work.
What you need and want and require in a relationship I cannot give. I am sorry.
I don’t know what else to say.
I am sorry.
What do I need? I need a friend. A shoulder to cry on. Someone who’s interested in how my day went. Someone who’s content in knowing that I’m a friend, that I have a shoulder for them to cry on, and I’m interested in how their day went.
You’ve been distancing yourself from me for some time now. Do you think I didn’t know this or feel this? Of course I did. You said you were doing this to prepare yourself to break up with me, because this relationship isn’t working for you.
So now you’ve said it. And now you may go.
I wish you well.
You posted a quote on your Facebook wall this morning:
Watching you walk out of my life hasn’t made me bitter or cynical about love, but rather, it has shown me that if I wanted so badly to be with the wrong person, how beautiful it will be when the right one comes along.
I read it and thought, yes, how beautiful it will be for you when the right one does come along. Because I am not the right one, as much as you think that I am. And I think that somewhere deep down in your heart, you know it too.
Is this the last goodbye? I don’t know. I’m not going anywhere. I am here with my kids. This is where I will be.
If you ever need a friend, or a shoulder to cry on, or someone who’s interested in how your day went, give me a call.
