I’m sorry she never replied, but I’m also glad you figured out that she doesn’t owe you an answer. I think that says a lot about how much you’ve grown and how far you’ve come as a person.
It was no small step to reach out after all this time and the things you’ve been through together. I think you did the right thing cause of the way things ended. Offering to make amends by putting your feelings out there was more generous than I’d expect of anyone.
After all, you never deserved to be led on like that. I wish I could explain why she didn’t give you the space you needed at first. I’m sorry you weren’t strong enough at the time to stand up for yourself, but it doesn’t mean you deserved it. It wasn’t fair. You were lonely and vulnerable and it was the last thing your heart needed to heal. I don’t blame you for having a hard time getting over her after that.
That’s why you had every right to ask for another break. Needing it was never a reflection or judgment on who she was. Just because she didn’t like it doesn’t mean you did anything wrong. In fact, she should have respected you and your request instead of getting upset or taking it as a valuation on her as a person.
I’m sorry she never acknowledged your pain or her role in it. I’m sorry part of you still feels so badly messed up. I’m sorry you never had a chance to tell her.
The fact that you haven’t heard back is likely a sign of how much she truly cares about you. That doesn’t mean you have to stop loving her. Your feelings are completely valid. It’s okay to love someone from a distance. It doesn’t make you a bad partner or person.
So take as much time as you need. There’s no right or wrong way to mourn the end of a relationship.
I was doing well in terms of sticking to my bi-weekly writing schedule. Putting my mind to something and being responsible to myself became a nurturing routine. Then October came and I lost the plot.
It can’t just be love, right? I can’t be the only one who thinks she’s beautiful. Her gentle smile has me convinced it’s an objective fact.
It’s the appointments: dentists, gastros, perios, shrinks. They all happen to fall within a few weeks, some of them up to three times. I know they’re all there to help me, but I’ve had a frustrating and difficult history with most medical professionals. At this point, I simply wouldn’t have the patience to sit in a waiting room if it weren’t for Heather there to support me every time. At least I found a competent psychiatrist; the first one who’s ever truly listened to me before prescribing any medication.
Continue reading “wake me up when October ends”…
Losing Dolly at the beginning of the year was absolutely devastating. However, I was also buoyed by the fact that we suddenly had space for a new cat in the house. What better way to help me through the mourning process than to have a new life keeping me company while Heather’s at work? And since her dream was always to have an orange tabby, I set about finding her the perfect kitten from the Humane Society back in January.
I thought he was still teething, but it turns out he just really likes chewing things. Also, sleeping in boxes.
Kittens tend to go within a few hours of being put up for adoption, so at one point I was checking the website every hour for available candidates. When there happened to be a tiny male tabby at 14 weeks old on the other side of town, I drove over immediately and found him in a cage sleeping with his sister (a beautiful little calico). It broke my heart to split them up, but I also knew she’d soon be snatched up herself.
Continue reading “introducing Percy”…
I’ve recently been faced with the challenge of navigating divergent histories within a shared narrative.
It’s the reason I wonder what my ex-bestie tells people regarding our falling out; I have the feeling it’s something along the lines of, “I don’t know”, even though I made it extremely clear exactly why I was unsatisfied and unhappy in our friendship. It’s the same reason I suspect my mom tells people that we didn’t get along when someone asks if she has any kids, instead of “I hurt my son so much that he refuses to have anything to do with me”. Sure, each explanation might be close to the truth, but they’re far enough away from it that I’d consider each one a lie.
Continue reading “unreliable narrator”…
We left on a Thursday, travelling by train with tickets my uncle bought us. My younger self would have enjoyed making a mix to go with the undulating patter of tracks and the passing of seasonal landscapes in my window. I could let songs and albums measure my time spent traveling. Now I measure time in hunger and pills.
But even as I age and the skyline grows less recognizable, the old stomping grounds remain comfortingly familiar. They say everyone’s an exile in New York. Well, in Toronto — where each municipality is a world unto itself, separated by miles of twisting highways and hours of traffic — everybody’s home.
Continue reading “ecstasy but not happiness”…