I AM (going to go there)

Not because I want to play in victim-hood.

Not because I hate “him”.

But because I saw “him” yesterday and I am confused.

My stomach fell when I got the text that some of my tax papers went there. I thought I had seen him for the last time.

I knew I couldn’t go to his place alone and get the papers, so I offered to meet someplace for lunch.

He wanted to see me, so he immediately offered to come this way. The more I thought about it, that was a good idea, just have him come by here and have three other people around me. I felt safe.

When I saw him, there was no heart flutters. My body didn’t react. I knew neither would happen. It was strange though to sit there for twenty minutes, and play nice with “him”, the guy who literally broke my face. “Him” the guy who laughed when I asked for half the respect his dog got, and said, “Like that will ever happen.”

He brought the guy I liked over, not the guy I grew to fear and hate. He was on his best behavior. When we sat and passed things between us, I saw how he purposely touched me, and looked into my eyes as much as he could. I saw glimpses of the guy who used to cause me a burning desire to kiss up one side of his face and down the other. I wanted to go ahead and hug him when he left, but it felt so completely wrong, hugging the person who caused me tens of thousands of dollars in reconstructive surgery, because I know he is hoping.

I’m confused how after all of it, I am still concerned about hurting his feelings and yet there is a part of me that wants to tell him how very much I have enjoyed living in a closet the last year*, compared to dying inside with him. Yet I won’t say that because it’s mean.

I’m confused because tonight when I got a text saying “Very nice c ing u”, I didn’t respond. I didn’t say, “Do you wish you would have listened when I warned you to be nice to your toys?” I didn’t say, “It was awkward as fuck, seeing you! I’m glad it’s over and I’ll be moving soon where you won’t know where I am at!”

Yet I feel sure, I did the right thing, once I actually left and stayed gone. (Yeah, I went back after the face breaking, just to make sure it was what it was. Dry laugh.) I love the way my life has changed and I am sure I am a better person because of what I went through after the “events”, as I call them. Him and her.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to talk about her here, but I love her, still…rejection and all.

I just can’t take another 48 years of life, like it was. My God, I don’t think I could even take another five. I think about the things that “could be”, and the powers that could be…if they kill us all today, I can’t say I am OK with it, but I am not afraid of my life ending. Either way, I’m going to find out what comes next and I don’t feel like if I were to exit today, I would leave full of hate. THAT means something to me.

Why does it feel so important to forgive and understand that people do fucked up things because they had fucked up things done to them and like the rest of us, don’t know how to deal (release) with it.

It wasn’t till I realized all the hate I had festering in me wasn’t hurting the people I wanted hurt, that I was able to stop hating. It took seeing what I had allowed that hate do to MY LIFE, and how it spiraled out of control in all areas of my life. When I realized I passed it on to her…I had to forgive myself.

I claimed my freedom over a year ago, it is the most precious thing in the world to me. My freedom was finding MY value. I never knew I had value. My freedom was finding love and living from there. My freedom came the day I realized that I deserve nothing less than love, as do you.

I truly wish him peace and hope he has learned something from me so more mascara stains aren’t left on the pillow that had mascara stains on it when I moved in.

And you thought the post called, “In My Closet”, was all metaphor!


About iwentcrazy

I am very, very, very average. And very, very, very lucky.

Posted on February 4, 2013, in Me, Relationships, Universe and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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