I had made every single mistake
That you could ever possibly make
I took and I took and I took what you gave
But you never noticed that I was in pain
I knew what I wanted; I went in and got it
– Alive by Sia
Lover phoned on Tuesday. I heard – I’m truly sorry, I needed this time to sort myself out, I really fucked up this time, I’m embarassed. There were declarations of undying love – I miss you, I think of you all the time, I just want to be with you, I still love you and hope to see you soon. But what I didn’t hear was geniune remorse, shame or any acknowledgement of my own pain. It’s all about HIM.
When it comes to men, I battle to let go. It’s an embedded, repeating pattern of mine. I become extraordinarily and intensely attached in a short space of time. No matter how poorly I’m treated, I grip tight like cement, holding on, refusing to let go, in the hopes of being loved, of being wanted. Hoping, hoping, hoping. Making bad choices over and over again.
So I have spent the past few days in agony, flip-flopping between chasing him away and wanting him back. My head and my heart have been behind closed doors, in intense negotiations, asking tough questions – what is your self-worth? What is your value? What is your price tag? What do you deserve?
I said right in the beginning I was going to live this experience differently. And so far I have. So after much debate, the verdict was in – I believe in my worth, that I have value, I deserve better and Lover has to go. Forever. This is part of what I texted, minus all the expressive language:
“You lost the option to have me the day you drank. You lost the right to choose me the day you lost your job to alcohol and left me for Cape Town. These were choices you made. The consequences are, you’ve lost me. I will never choose YOU again because you don’t value me. I choose MYSELF because I am worth so much more than you.”
It all sounds so neatly packaged and in control. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m a dribbling idiot of a fine mess right now. Disillusioned with life and people, still wanting him back despite all the sound logic and reason, with a beating heartache so great I feel I will never smile again. I barely make it through work, fighting tears all day, then go straight to bed as soon as I get home. Ain’t life grand…….fake it ’til I make it? And breathe.