the year before the last.
...I had a lot of stress. When my "significant other" finally got the courage to break up with me he had the mandatory “other woman” in the background…the male version of an anti-anxiety drug. I guess he overlooked the fact I happened to be living with him at his home with my two children. Of course, he would not admit he had “another woman," though i asked and pleaded... to try to understand... why???
On some level I must have known he did, but trying to make sense of all the lies he was throwing at me only magnified the possibility I might require a potential trip to the nuthouse. But I handled it. And I didn't break anything. I just moved us out. That day. To a motel. What did I tell my kids? I simply told them: we don’t want to wear out our welcome.
There is no pain I can remember that was as deep as the loss of that relationship. It was a physically palpable pain, tearing away at me and wrenching me to the depths of my entire being. I remember the wounded-ness of it, the fogginess and despair, the absolute emptiness I was afraid might consume me. This was the man I had loved, with all of my being, who I thought loved me. How was this happening?
Tossed out like garbage, for a temporary replacement.
I had once told him, chasing someone else is like trying on a new pair of pants; new fit, different size. but you know what? New pants get old and worn out too.
...I had a lot of stress. When my "significant other" finally got the courage to break up with me he had the mandatory “other woman” in the background…the male version of an anti-anxiety drug. I guess he overlooked the fact I happened to be living with him at his home with my two children. Of course, he would not admit he had “another woman," though i asked and pleaded... to try to understand... why???
On some level I must have known he did, but trying to make sense of all the lies he was throwing at me only magnified the possibility I might require a potential trip to the nuthouse. But I handled it. And I didn't break anything. I just moved us out. That day. To a motel. What did I tell my kids? I simply told them: we don’t want to wear out our welcome.
There is no pain I can remember that was as deep as the loss of that relationship. It was a physically palpable pain, tearing away at me and wrenching me to the depths of my entire being. I remember the wounded-ness of it, the fogginess and despair, the absolute emptiness I was afraid might consume me. This was the man I had loved, with all of my being, who I thought loved me. How was this happening?
Tossed out like garbage, for a temporary replacement.
I had once told him, chasing someone else is like trying on a new pair of pants; new fit, different size. but you know what? New pants get old and worn out too.
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