It was a windy Monday morning in mid April when I walked through the door of the apartment with my mind made up. I knew what I needed to do, and I had finally gathered enough courage to do it. As I looked up from kicking my shoes off at the door, I could see him in the spare bedroom straight ahead, down the hall. He was moving things around and piling them by the door. My stomach dropped as my heart leaped into my throat and stopped simultaneously.
"He's already a step ahead of me," I thought. "He is packing my things up and is going to tell me we're over."
I walked down the hallway and stood in the doorway. He told me he was looking for something and asked if I had seen it. Honestly, I don't even know what he was looking for, because the sound of my heart pounding was the only noise that reached my ears.
"Can you come out here and talk to me, please?" I asked. He followed me down the hallway and into the living room.
I sat at the far end of the couch and insisted he sit down. Things hadn't been right for months, and I was going to get to the bottom of things-- I was going to fix us, or I was leaving. After all, just a few weeks prior, I came home and found a bobby pin that was too new and the wrong color to be mine... and he couldn't explain it, but he had been home all day.
"I am not happy," I said. "I haven't been for weeks, and I know you haven't been happy for a while either. What is happening to us? What do we need to do to be happy again? Because I honestly just can't keep doing this. I make efforts to spend time with you, and you make excuses. You play video games while I try to talk to you, and you ignore me. I sit on the couch with you and try to curl up next to you, and you move away. You won't let me kiss you without pretending like you're joking... and I have to tell you that I love you more than once before you finally tell me you love me too. I just can't keep doing this."
He immediately stood up and walked behind me into the kitchen and started slamming things around as he was getting ready for work. Finally, he spoke.
"What do you want me to say, sorry for playing video games? I'm not happy either. I work 6 days a week to give us a place to live, car insurance, utilities... and you work a few days a week and do nothing. Why was it that I had to do dishes this weekend just to be able to eat, while you went out of town?"
I was stunned. For our entire relationship-- nearly four years-- I had financially supported us. Our first winter together, he sat on unemployment while I worked a minimum wage job, just to make it by... and most recent to the conversation, I had paid for the $1,000 worth of repairs for his car and hadn't seen a penny of it back. I paid for more than half of our bed. More than half of the couch. Our cell phone bill in full each month. Purchased our groceries. Put gas in the car. Paid our utility bills. I also cleaned the apartment at least once a week without ever asking for help. The only responsibility he had was our $400 rent payment each month. Yet somehow, I didn't contribute anything to the relationship-- and specifically nothing financial.
My head reeling, I sat there silent. I bit my tongue to keep from lashing out in anger and escalating the situation.
"Anything else?" He asked.
I shook my head in stunned silence and he walked down the hall to the bathroom, where a few moments later the shower was running.
He left for work shortly after, and not another word was spoken between us. The last sound I heard from him was the door he slammed as he left. I didn't know what to do, so I cried. I let it all out for the first time. For almost four years, I gave my time, money, and whole self to our relationship, and I was learning it wasn't enough.
That's the moment I decided that I deserved better-- I deserved to be happy-- so I called my family and asked them to come get me. Four years of my things were packed and ready to go in under an hour and a half, and were loaded into a truck in fifteen minutes.
I left behind a two page letter with the keys, and he found it when he got home.
At this point, you're probably judging me pretty hardcore. You may think that there were better ways to end it, but you weren't a part of my relationship, so you can't fully understand. If you're still with me, keep reading. If you're not, keep reading anyway. Believe it or not, there is a lesson here. My intent is not to bash my ex; I want to share what I learned.
I expected a phone call, but I got an e-mail asking me to help him understand. He said that you don't just throw away an almost 4 year relationship because you hit a "rough spot," and he wanted to know if this is what I really wanted... he also said he was pissed that all he got was a letter and a "quick escape," and he accused me of just looking for a reason.
"You need to know that this wasn't an easy decision for me to make... In our conversation yesterday, you made it perfectly clear that you feel like I do more hurt than help. I tried to have a conversation with you about one thing, and it got turned back onto me for pretty much being a lazy freeloader. Why do you think I shut up after that? I was hurt. I have been hurt for a while. I was trying to tell you that yesterday and you completely blew past it and it became about me, not about us. I love you more than I think you ever realized, and each disappointment, each "hurt," I just pushed down and made excuses for you. So to hear yesterday how you really feel hurt me worse than any of those other hurts put together. If that's how you really feel about me and my position in the relationship, then is it really just a rough spot or is it something more? I wasn't just looking for a reason.
"I understand you're pissed; I expected you to be. But I need you to try and see where I am coming from. You of all people know that for most of my adult life I have been a burden to one person or another... the last person I wanted to hear that from is the person I love more than anything. How do you get past that? I have done everything, in my mind, to try and be a good girlfriend-- a good person-- to you, only to find out that you feel like I failed you. So while you may be pissed, you need to understand that I am seriously hurt... and that's where this all comes from."
He accused me of having planned my leaving, weeks in advance, for as quickly as I left. He also defended himself by telling me he never called me a freeloader.
I answered, "For me to move out as quickly as I did only required me to throw my things together quickly and call someone with a truck. The only planning that I did was deciding if I wanted to risk continuing to be hurt and make excuses, or if I had finally had enough sadness. Do you know how many times that you stayed up until I got up and then went to bed when I left for work, that I cried myself to sleep the next night? Do you know how many times in the past month I have wanted nothing more than to just cuddle up to you on the couch and you acted like it was an inconvenience? Or even how many times I have had to say "I love you" before I would even get a response? Each time, I made an excuse for why you may have reacted like that. That's why it's taken a month for me to bring it up. I finally got tired of making excuses and pushing the hurt down for another day, acting like nothing was wrong.
"For not thinking I am a freeloader, it certainly seemed that's the case-- you said that you work 6 days a week to support us, and I only work a few and do nothing. If that's not the definition of a freeloader, I don't know what is. Like I said yesterday, I have never once asked for help with cleaning the apartment... even with two sinks full and the entire counter covered in dirty dishes and all of the other work that goes into cleaning the rest. And even though I only work a few days a week, I still paid for the repairs on your car, more than half of the bed, more than half of the couch, I usually paid the cell phone bill in full, put gas in the car when I'd used it, bought groceries (not always, as you pointed out yesterday,) and still try to keep a clean home. I went out of town for a holiday and dishes didn't get done. Went out of town the following weekend to see an aunt I hadn't seen in a while, dishes didn't get done... does it suck to have to clean a dish or two to eat? Yes. Is it the end of the world? No. I was trying to open up to you yesterday and talk through things, and it became about me and what I don't do, not the root of the problem. It had become clear that trying to talk about it again wasn't going to work as long as I would continue to be the reason for your unhappiness."
I never heard from him after that, and I woke up the next morning to find he had finally removed our relationship from facebook. My whole family believed I made the right decision, and I truly believe I did, too. It had been killing me for weeks so much that I hadn't been able to eat or sleep-- I lost 15 pounds in a week and a half and weighed less than I did in high school.
Did I handle it the "best" way possible? Probably not... but if we had tried to talk it out again, it would have turned into something about ME again, just like every other time, and we would never get to the REAL problem.
it was time to get out. I deserve better. I deserved to be happy again.
Two years later brings us to the present. I have been single for half the amount of time that I was with him, and that's okay with me. While I admit that I do get lonely, I really am happy.
Don't ask me why I am single. After four years of a truly dysfunctional relationship, I am in no hurry to rush into another relationship unless I am sure I will be treated how I deserve. I am too old to waste my time with playing games. For me, dating should serve a purpose beyond staving off loneliness. I want to find someone who is man enough to commit to me through not just the easy times, but the difficult ones as well.
Because you see, being with me won't be easy for whoever chooses me. I am a mess of medical issues ranging from Epilepsy to the possibility of cancer. There's a 70% chance that I won't be able to have children, and if I try, I have to be weaned off of my anticonvulsant and stay off for the duration of my pregnancy. It's a lot to take in, for even myself, so it's not fair to expect anyone to willingly accept that. To ask someone else to give up his hopes and dreams for the sake of loving me... but I believe that someone, some day, won't mind. And if not, I will be just fine.
My point is this: we are responsible for our own happiness. Single or in a relationship. Whatever you need to do to be happy, do it. This life is yours, and it's too short to live it settling. Find something that you love to do, and do it. Find someone who treats you like you're the most amazing person to grace the face of the planet, and hold onto them. But never become complacent. Love until you feel like there's nothing left in you to give, and that one thing or that one person will reignite your heart with a fire big enough to go on forever.
Never settle. YOU deserve better. YOU deserve to be happy.
