Word prompt this week is butterflies
Last year I was confronted with the realization that I was no longer happily married. But it took me some time to come to this conclusion and then to decide what I was going to do about it. These are journal entries I wrote during the process depicting a few reasons why it had come to this. This is the death of my marital butterflies.
I wish she was more flexible.
I wish she would just accept me sometimes instead of constantly trying to change me.
I wish she was more motivated.
I wish she listened more.
I wish she assumed less.
I wish she would stop telling me what I should do/say/feel.
I wish I had not made her so dependent on me.
I wish that I didn’t have to wish this.
I’m feeling this way (wanting to be free, having feelings for someone else) and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s that I’m lonely. I guess that could be it. Maybe this is my way of dealing with everything that’s been going on and has happened. It’s easier to run away than it is to deal with it. It scares me that I don’t know where this is coming from. That I’m not so sure it’s just because of what’s happened but maybe it’s been brewing all along and now I can’t contain it the way I used to. That this feeling, it might be real and not a passing phase. That scares me the most.
October or November 2014
What I want
I want to be seen.
I want to be appreciated.
I want to grow.
I want to try new things and not be the one to push.
I want to be checked in with.
I don’t want to be a caregiver.
I want to be around confidence and not fear.
November 29, 2014
Today is our 13th anniversary. She is being completely wonderful. And it makes me feel guilty and sad. It makes me feel guilty because she’s been wonderful this past month. So patient and attending. However, I feel like I have to keep my distance because I don’t feel the same love towards her as I once did.
Today she wants to get rose trees for the backyard as an anniversary gift. She knows this is something I’ve wanted for a long time. But when she suggested it today, instead of feeling happy or excited, I felt sad because I thought “I wish she had been this way before, even as little as four months ago”. Because it did not have the same effect on me.
Four months ago, maybe even two months ago, I would have been elated. She suggested something that is important and enjoyable to me, something she doesn’t necessarily like. That didn’t happen too often without a struggle.
But now, all I can think is “It took all of this, us getting to this point (telling her that I was considering leaving), for her to be this consistently thoughtful and attentive. For her to start really seeing me or at least show me that she sees me.” Maybe I’m focused on the wrong things. It’s better late than never, right? But it makes me so horribly sad.
November 29, 2014
I sit, listening to her beautiful voice using music to confess her love, baring her soul. Just for me. My heart breaks as she reaches exquisite notes because I realize that I will never feel the same again. Things are not going to go back to how they were. I am no longer the same girl who fell in love with her. The same girl she expects me to be. And this breaks my heart. Can I really let such a beautiful creature go?
December 5, 2014
I feel so sure of myself, that what I’m choosing is right for me. But as I take more time to reflect on my pending decision to leave her, I wonder, am I abandoning her? Am I abandoning us?
I look at the life we’ve built and try to silently say goodbye, but it is impossible for me to imagine living without the comfort and security of being with her. Life without her love, her warm smile, her beautiful heart, it’s unimaginable.
I can pretend for a bit that I’m living without her, but there’s still that assurance that she will be there when I need her. We are always there for each other. No matter what. She’s a part of me, so ingrained into my life and my way of being, that I’m afraid removing her would leave a vast gaping hole that could never be filled up again. That the pain would always be there, in some capacity, where she once was.
So my choice should be easy. If I base it on this, I should stay.
But when I think about staying, I see myself losing a part of me forever. A large part that’s all me, me before her. A part I’ve stuffed and ignored for so long that I forgot it was there. I diminished this wildness, these desires inside of me, in order to stay the way we are, forcing myself to be small. Bending my will to fit inside the lines. My sacrifice in making us work.
Because becoming big means leaving. And leaving means breaking both of our hearts. Leaving means saying goodbye and crushing the dreams we made together. Goodbye to our home, our little family, and our love. This grieves me.
But leaving also means being able to be completely me. Rediscovering myself. Focusing on my own needs and wants. Free to grow into who I am now and not feeling the pressure to stay who I was. I am different now. I am aware. And I can’t go back. I can’t stay inside the lines anymore.
So I’m buying time. Time to enjoy us a little longer before I decide I can no longer try. Before I break the beautiful life we’ve made together in order to have a chance to shine on my own. It feels selfish, yet also necessary. Vital, even, for my existence. Because as much as I want both, I know I must choose. Me or us?
The very next day after that last entry, I told her “Even if things became perfect, I wouldn’t be able to love you the same way again.” I had finally accepted that I’d fallen completely out of love with her. And I could no longer try to reverse it. That was the day we ended and I began. She stormed around the house and took down everything that reminded her of me and left. I sobbed for a long time. It was heartwrenching.
I don’t regret it. Not one bit. Because I love who I am now. I’m the person I was meant to become.
I chose me.
*Originally posted here