I’m going to try to make this blog more than just a collection of my relational attempts and failures. Now that I’ve finally turned the page and closed this past chapter of my life, I feel that a good idea would be to actually chronicle all of the goings-on of my life. So future posts will also talk about my latest decorating finds or recipes that I try or fun weekend trips that I’ve taken.The tone and emotional color of this blog will be taking a facelift. However, today is not that day. I reserve the right to linger once more on a topic that is near and painfully dear to my heart, purely because of the day that it is.
Today is October 2, 2011; it’s a Sunday evening. Today, the man who I considered to be the great love of my life returned from Iraq for two weeks leave. I’m closer to him today with the distance of Fort Worth to Austin between us than I have been since I kissed him good bye in a La Quinta parking lot eight months ago when I bid him goodbye and sent him away to Iraq. From that moment, it was pure hope that kept me going–hope that our love was strong enough to survive deployment; hope that the dreams we were dreaming and the future we were planning were actually going to come to pass. It was a lean, tasteless existence to live on a diet of hope, Skype, and email, but I did it because I loved him…I loved us.
However, as it turns out…I was the one who wanted it too much; or rather I should say I expected and wanted to much in general…out of the relationship, out of him. They say that it is better to have loved and lost than never have loved at all. I don’t know if I agree with that. They also say that nothing stings worse than unrequited love. Again, I’d say they are painting the picture too narrowly. It’s not about never having loved; it’s not about not being loved back. For me, the most bitter sting of all lies in the fact that love was gained and expressed, promises were made, and then when it required much, when it demanded true sacrifice and maturity, it was as if none of the love and promises and statements mattered. The knowledge that I can’t shake because it hangs with me like an icy fist around my heart is that I wasn’t worth it. If I linger too long on those words, I can almost start to hyperventilate.
And now he’s here. He’s back. The tears come unbidden behind my eyes when I think about all that was left unsaid between us and all the plans for these two weeks that will never come to fruition. Hell, not just the plans for these two weeks…also for the rest of our lives. It happened like ships passing in the night; I left DFW and he came home. It was a clean break from most perspectives, but in a few short months he will be back and living less than one hour from me. And all I want to say to him is: It’s not fair. It’s not fair what you did and said to me. You made me promises that meant nothing in the end; you made me believe you were a man with intentions and beliefs. You made me believe that we had a real chance at life together because you were willing to sacrifice for me.
And then I just want to ask: Why?
I know my fists and tears and questions and accusations are ineffectual, but I just want to beat on his chest and say those words over and over and over again and just…cry. I haven’t let myself really cry, yet. I know that it’s going to happen sooner or later; but for now, the tears won’t come.
A new favorite song says all that I want to say…
“All the nights we spent just talking of the things we wanted out of life. Making plans and dreams together…I wish I’d seen, I was just too blind. My heart was open, exposed, and hoping for you to lay it on the line. But in the end it seemed there was no room for me…still I tried to change your mind. I guess I wanted you more, and looking back now I’m sure. I wanted you more…….
but
I don’t need you…I don’t need you anymore.”
