Stomach Pangs and Foaming Mouths
As I sift through the memories of the breakups that really counted I find one common occurrence. One that my best friend, old boss and mentor pointed out to me so vividly after a late shift at 4am.
I remember at the time I pretty much knew that my relationship with Paul was over. The energy between the two of us was intense, the love was missing and it was very clear that we were very unhappy. We both out of loyalty tried to stick it out, but what ensued was horrible. The more we tried to hang on, the worse things got. The more we tried to protect ourselves as individuals. The more we grew apart, soon in became a full fledged war at times, much, actually too much like the War of The Roses.
Yet time and time again we would look past the obvious and trudge forward in the quagmire of unhappiness. Why? Well now that I reflect I find that it was a series of several things not just one. Although one does stick out as Lina so precisely pointed. The first was actually being honest with myself about the situation and the dire straits it emerged into. Knowing that the end was probably a lot sooner than I had planned and knowing that each and every one of my life goals somehow included this person as part of my team was about to change. I also felt a lot of fear, I worried about money, I worried about my son and how this would effect him as a person, him and his day care, him and his routine. I worried about myself. My broken heart and loss of life that I had become to know. I also worried about my work. We even worked together as a team for 11 hours a day 6 days a week. I knew that would change and I knew with that every single one of my peers would know exactly what is going on. Which then results in team building, the division of friends and the sorta fake friends.
But there was one thing that stood between myself and the end. My refusal to let it go. Every time I saw him I desired so strongly for things to just be better that time and time again, I would set my self value and happiness at such a low level that I would climb back on the emotional rollercoaster ride. What was the obstacle? A bad case of the rabies.
Lina explained to me that the toughest part of breaking up is the change in learned behavior. And the toughest part about breaking up with your partner is nostalgia.
In other words your partner is the cute fuzzy, furry little dog. You see it there, emotional. Attractive, representing affection, and you desire so much so, to go up and pet it, nurture it, take it home to Mom and Dad and plan for the future, that you don't even notice that it is foaming at the mouth. So without noticing you get closer and closer, and closer and then snap. It lashes out and it bites you and it bites you hard and it hurts. And it effects you more than you realize, behind the scenes it is damaging yourself, quietly lurking, hard to evict causing you a greater stomach ache in the long run.
I always stick by the rule now that relationships exist to make your partner happy, and if I took a big black marker and marked a big black "x" on every day where my partner made me feel like shit and I saw that there are a lot of big black "x's" then it is time to let go. I have decided that my relationships deserve the highest form of respect and that they will never be beaten into the ground. I have decided to let it go. Even if it is not forever and just for now.