Moth To A Flame (Lunch With The Ex-Husband)

Sometimes I get too caught up in trying to write well and don't end up writing at all. For days I've been puzzling at a few things I've wanted to write, but perfectionism has reared its ugly head so much that everything has been deleted instead of posted.


Have I thought a lot about why I made the choices I have, lately, in regard to my ex-husband and my father? Yes. Have I come to any helpful conclusions? Not so much.


I knew, from the moment I arranged to see my ex and meet his daughter that I was going to do this. I knew, also, that it was probably not in the realms of the smartest idea I'd ever had. I remember saying to a friend what my plans were and she told me straight up, "cancel it". I rationalised all the ways it could be good - and I think we both knew that's all it was. Rationalisations. Cancelling just wasn't on the cards.

So why not? Why, when I know the kind of person he is, when I know that the situation is a tricky one for me, did I do it?

Curiosity certainly played a part. I wanted to know what his child was like. I wanted to see for myself whether she was cute (she is), what kind of a father he made (a good one). I have a lot of unanswered questions about the way things ended up - part of me hoped that if I asked my questions (I didn't), he'd give me those answers (he couldn't).

He treated me much the same as always, though I admit he was quite toned down. For my part, DBT has obviously influenced me as I called the shots a bit: I chose the area we met in and when I didn't like the restaurant he chose, I asked for us to go somewhere else. Otherwise, I slipped fairly well back into my old role (I'm working on it).

What did I get out of the experience? A heightened sense of guilt. I'm not pretty enough, not smart enough, not thin enough, not good enough... and I never was. Sadness for what was, what could have been... what has been lost. Anger. He has re-written our history in his mind so that he doesn't have to feel bad about what he did. He repeatedly tells me that I left him, and while this is technically true, he ignores the fact that I seriously contemplated staying, after everything, until he left me stranded in the middle of a breakdown and lied about why. His staunchest supporter took me home to her place that night and told me that I was an idiot if I so much as thought about staying with him.

Did I get anything good out of it? I'm sure I must have. I believe that there is good to be found in every situation, but sometimes it's very hard to see. I haven't seen it yet in this one. I wish I could say that, at the very least, what I got out of it is a renewed determination to stay away from him, but it would be a lie. Like a moth to a flame, I am drawn to him.

Still, perhaps next time I will be able to stand more in wise mind. Even the moth has a choice...



Cheer-leading statements:
I am not a bad person.
Every day is a new chance, new beginning.
Criticisms levelled at me without constructive intent say a lot more about the other person than they do about me.
It's okay to feel whatever I feel.
The world doesn't have to be divided into black & white.




Take care of yourselves until next time, and may we all find our own small fences along the way.

Life Isn't A Fairytale

Eight years ago, I donned my fairytale dress. I stood in front of my family and my friends and I promised to share my life with him, and only him, for as long as we both should live. We promised each other forever.

A lot has changed. Two years ago, we finalised our divorce: signed all the papers, made it official that things between us were over. I still hate that word, divorce. I hate the finality, the way I feel like a failure when I apply it to us.

Today he has a new relationship, a new family. I'm supposed to have moved on as well, and sometimes I think I have. And sometimes... sometimes I'm still so sad for all that we had that is gone. It's hard to move on without accepting it, but it's hard to accept it without moving on. I'm not even sure I want to accept it, sometimes. I know that might sound a bit silly, but accepting it means giving up even the ghost of a hope that it might be different some day. I suppose it probably sounds even sillier to those who know a bit more about our relationship. Still... I'm afraid to give up that hope.

It's like I live a fairytale, in my head. Like I think if I just hold on long enough, things will work out in the end, just like in a romantic comedy. I really need to challenge those thoughts. Life isn't a story, it's not going to work like the movies. It doesn't matter how long I hold onto him in my mind - I'm still not going to get him back. And the truth is, I don't really want him back. What I want is for my life to have gone the direction it was headed in five years ago. I want to be 22, again, with the world at my feet. And I can't have that, so it's time to let it go. It's time to learn how to want to be 27, 28, 29, 30. It's time to learn how to want to be something I can actually achieve. It's time to make new goals, time to make a new life for myself.

Tonight I'm going to let myself feel the sadness, the loss. Tonight I'll let myself cry for the woman who promised forever to someone who didn't keep it; for the hopes and the dreams and everything that we shared that never came to fruition. But tomorrow?

Tomorrow I'm going to remember that this isn't an ending, this is just another new beginning. And it's my choice what I do with that.



Cheer-leading Statements:
What we had is over. It's okay to feel sad about that.
Life doesn't work like the movies.
Sometimes it's more important to let go.
I can survive this. I can tolerate this, and anything else that comes my way.
Being divorced doesn't make me a complete failure as a person.



Take care of yourselves until next time, and may we all find our own small fences along the way.