I now know where I stand.
I thought to myself: it is good to finally know.
But that is a lie.
It isn’t good to know.
It hurts like hell.
I am not worth his effort.
I never was.
I have never been worth anybody else’s effort.
I will probably always have a little fantasy stashed away where he comes to me and says how he was so terribly wrong and I was the one he truly wanted to be with and he would do everything in his power to make it right again, so he could choose me again.
And, in my fantasy, he would really mean it, and somehow would be able to prove it.
I was told a real life story, of a man who left his wife from his own issues. Once he had them mostly worked out, he returned, and he spent six years winning back her love. Six years of absolute devotion. She was the only woman he had ever loved. The only woman he so wanted such that he did everything in his power to prove to her how much he wanted to be with her.
But now I know I am alone.
He expected me to do something, I don’t know what, to put forth all the effort to make the relationship work.
Easiest path and only the easiest.
Nothing worth believing in.
Run rather than fight.
I know I am a coward.
I have been beaten by him into PTSD and fearing for my life.
I know he is a coward.
He would rather have the thrill of illicit sex and lies than face the partner he promised to love and cherish and confront the issues that he was experiencing.
What am I worth to him? A few hundred bucks? A lifetime of pain?
I don’t know how to manifest myself into someone that someone else would feel is worth their effort.
Maybe I will try to not meet their needs and just let them come to me while I only meet my own.
So lonely. So not giving. So unloving.
So I will cry, here. Alone. And hold my own hand when there is no one else I trust, nor capable, nor willing to hold me.
I sort of get it. Every time I see him, I see that man who betrayed and abused me. Every time he sees me, he sees the woman he was capable of betraying and abusing. And he may still see his addiction as his friend, and be running to it, and this is his way of ‘saving’ me from himself.
I wish I could let go the fantasy and accept the reality, that it is completely over, and he will never fix the relationship he broke, and he will never choose me because that would be validating that all the years I spent were not wasted on someone who never cared very much about me anyway.
My stuff. My pain. My baggage.
I wish I would get over him and heal myself and manifest how much I am worth in all my golden, loving, loveable, quirky goodness.
It is good to know where I stand.