I hesitate to put these next two posts up so early in the life of this blog. I don’t necessarily want to start with negative experiences, but on the other hand, they have taught me so much. Breakups often end up being an important part of open relationships. This letter was drafted about six months after I stopped speaking to my ex. It was never intended to be sent. Despite my hang ups about posting the rough stuff first, I’m just going to leave this here…
To my dearest, my-ex,
I don’t believe you ever intended to hurt me. And although I often find it difficult not to believe you stopped caring about me altogether, deep down, I don’t believe that is the case.
I’m not vindictive and I don’t wish you ill-will. Your happiness is still important to me even after all that’s happened. I want you to be happy, with or without me. However, I feel like you need to know how much I was hurt by your actions at the end. You promised me that we would always be close and that you’d always be there for me. You calmed my fears time and time again by saying that our friendship, my place and importance in your life, was non-negotiable. I think you truly felt that way when you spoke those words. I don’t think you were lying then. But, darling, you sure as hell didn’t keep your promise.
It would have been different if you had communicated at the end instead of shutting yourself down to me. I spent months reaching out to you, time and time again, only to be met with heavy disappointment and a crushing sadness as it dawned upon me that this was ending. It left me feeling, among a wash of other emotions, horribly foolish. Over the course of our four year relationship, I spent unfathomable amounts of time, emotional energy, and monetary resources on you. My marriage almost fell apart because our connection was (seemingly) so strong. Within months, pulling any type of meaningful response from you was more difficult than pulling teeth, and I was made to feel that all that had been spent on you had been wasted. I gifted to you a blind trust that I felt would never be broken, only to have it violated in a horribly painful way. Your non-response quite literally drove me to the brink of my sanity and perhaps pushed me over the edge. I really thought you loved and cared about me too much to forget about me, to move on with so little recognition. I lost myself in you, and from this perspective it seemed as though you just turned away quietly with little remorse or empathy. Never in a million years did I think you would be the source of the worst emotional pain I’ve yet experienced as an adult.
For the four years we were together, I fully expected that you were going to be apart of my life, forever. The young, naïve me couldn’t possibly conjure up a scenario where we would drift apart and lose contact. I didn’t believe it was possible. When you began pulling away, when you stopped responding, I panicked. I realized that I was indeed a negotiable item, but only on your own terms. You weren’t going to let anyone else tell you I couldn’t be in your life, but no one else had to.
In the end, I had to be the one to kill it, to allow my wounds to heal- to stop trying so hard with you and to start focusing on locating all the shards of my broken sanity and begin to piece them back together.
Six months after I made that decision and asked you not to contact me, I’m pretty sure there are still a few pieces missing. I have moved on, but not entirely. Once and awhile a memory catches me off guard, like a tree branch snagging the sleeve of my sweater. It jerks me back for a moment, and I have to then pause and untangle you from my mind.
You will never read this, but know that there will always be a small piece of my heart that will burn for you until the day I perish. I did love you so.
No Longer Yours,