I don't want to be in love with you anymore -- Guest Post

I'm so sick and tired of being in love with you. I don't want to love you anymore. I don't want you in my thoughts anymore. I don't want you invading my dreams. I can go months without thinking of you, without remembering how you made me feel. I can meet another man and not want to compare him to you. I can develop a crush and not feel guilty about it. And then, out of nowhere, you come slamming back into my life. Why? Why can't you just STAY gone?! I don't want to love you anymore. I don't want to be in love with you.

I know you're not the person I fell in love with. That person doesn't exist. I don't know if he ever really did. Logically, I know that he wasn't a figment of my imagination. After the assault, you were everything I needed you to be. You soothed the hand shaped bruises left on both flesh and psyche. You were the strength I needed when I didn't even know who I was or who I wanted to be. When I was lost and couldn't lift my head above the current, you were the raft I needed. When it all crashed down the first time, I convinced myself I didn't need you. I convinced myself I was better than you and your love.

But you came back in. And you shook my entire world up. I admit, part of that was my fault. I was so incredibly stupid for seeking you out in the first place. But I had wounds that I needed healed. I needed that closure. I should have known you'd never give it to me. Instead, you stirred me back up. Instead, you made me fall in love with you all over again. To see you with your little girl, to see you being the man I always knew you could be ... how could I not fall in love with that? I could hardly breathe when in your presence.

Was it a lie? Was everything a lie? You're not that person and I know this. Logically, I know that you are not who I think you are. You never outright lied to me. You never pretended to be something you weren't. But with me, you were always different. You weren't the manwhore everyone expected you to be. You were quiet. You were calm. You balanced out my crazy. You were one of a few people who could put me in my place without hurting my feelings. You did it with tact and grace while still being firm.

You are selfish. You are arrogant. You care more about the things you think will make you into the person you want to be. Why couldn't you see that we were both in the same place? Didn't you realize that we could've helped each other to find the place we wanted to be? I finally came to see you would never be anything more than a man-child. Forever, in my heart, you will be the one who pieced me back together. You will be my first love, until the day I die. But I don't want to be in love with you anymore.

I want you to stop invading my dreams. I am sick to death of dreaming of her. She will never be OUR daughter. I will never have children with you. So why, when I dream of her, are you always there? I don't want you there. I don't want you tainting those moments. I don't want to dream of you anymore. I don't want to dream of her either, to be honest. I suppose in my mind, she'll always be yours. My blue eyes, your jet black hair, and chubby rolls. I'm sick to death of it. Would we have made a beautiful child? Of that, I have no doubt. But it will never happen. You are not meant to be the father of my children. I wish you would just disappear. I wish I could control my dreams.

It's easy to realize all of this when I'm awake. It's easy to be logical when I'm awake. I'm tired of hurting over you. I'm tired of letting myself fall back into that same pattern. I so badly want to unblock your profile from Facebook. But I won't. I can't stand to see the pictures. I want to tell myself that I am over you. That you were nothing more than the older boy that my high school self was in love with. But you couldn't let me have that, could you? You had to tell me that you were in love with me too. You had to tell me that I'd be a lucky catch for any guy and that you'd be forever jealous of the man who got to have me as his wife and the mother of his child.

Was I supposed to be flattered by that? Was that supposed to make me feel good about myself? Because in reality, all it did was piss me off. If you're so jealous, then why couldn't you man up and be that man? Another crush told me that I was good enough to fuck but not good enough to date. Is that how you see me as well? I'm good enough to fool around with but never to settle with? You can pick up the broken pieces and glue them back together but you can't stick around to see how well the glue dries?

I don't want to be in love with you anymore. I'm sick and tired of thinking of you. I want you gone from my life forever. Why can't I seem to get rid of you, even after all these years?
...

Bridget Frazier: A twenty-something young woman who, over the years, has come to realize that hopes and dreams don't always coincide with reality. Take a journey through what it means to accept what life has given you, to be happy with the blessing bestowed, all while mourning the loss of dreams once passed.




 

Women Stay

Women stay.  Not all women, of course, there are some who break away, who take off despite the risks, who take the first step in liberating themselves from a violent situation and bettering their lives.  But the fact remains that too many (even one is too many, but we're talking thousands, millions, of women) stay in abusive relationships.

Many see no alternative, or the alternative they do see seems even worse than where they are.  Those who have children are in an even more precarious position.  They fear for their children's wellbeing, both while they remain in their relationship and even moreso should they choose to leave.

When you are a parent, your decisions directly affect your children.  For me, that means dealing with excess whining as we board a plane home for the Christmas holiday.  For others, it means being painted into a corner with no way out.

How will a woman with no car, no income, no friends or family, and no shelter be able to provide for her children out on her own?  How will that woman be able to survive in hiding, should her partner choose to look for her, find her, bring her back?  Will her children bear part of 'her punishment' for leaving?  How will she be able to feed them, clothe them, care for them if she's on the run?

It's easy to type this from my warm living room on my laptop as my babies sleep.  When I'm done with this piece, I'll start dinner in the crock pot.  I'll set up our Christmas tree.

Easier still would be for me to simply write: make the call.  Call a shelter, an ambulance, the police, your mother.  Call someone.  Act.  Get out.  This message, while best intended, is completely lacking in empathy.  Women in violent situations cannot just make a call.  Something that seems innocuous - simple - to someone like me, can be a matter of life or death to a woman surrounded by such volatility.

For all I know, that woman's phone is tapped or her computer is keylogged.  Even reading this post could set off a chain reaction of abuse.  And that's assuming she even has access to a phone or a computer.  One doesn't need to be locked in the basement to be held prisoner.

Remember that.  If you are in a violent situation, and you think that it's not bad enough to attempt to get out, if you worry that the consequences of your attempt will make life worse for you and your kids, remember: one doesn't need to be locked in the basement to be held prisoner.

Abuse is rarely as concrete as basement walls.  It permeates.  If you are being abused, it sullies every pocket of every safe space you think you might have in your mind.  Do you think you are good?  Do you think you are good enough?  Do you think he is right?  Do you think you deserve better?  These are the important questions.

More important still:  Do you think your children deserve better?  Because they are worth that shot in the dark.  You are worth that shot in the dark.

And maybe it's not so dark after all.  Of course, that is my entitlement speaking.  It is that dark.  But it is still worth it.  This essay is worthless.  It is rhetoric, it is lip service.  Pretty words on a page do not dial phones.

What we need to do in the face of violence against women is act, not speak.  Speaking is useful only in its capacity to bring about action.  The readers here don't have to donate money, they don't have to hold signs in rallies to promote awareness, they don't have to change their Facebook pictures.  They simply have to think.  If each of us thinks hard enough, I bet we'll each come up with at least one person we know, personally, who is suffering some kind of abuse. We cannot sit idly by and callously tell them to call the people.  We must show them that it can be done.  We must personally illuminate the path for them.  Not for all of them - that is daunting, that is impossible.  For that one person we know.  For her kids.  We must act, not speak.  We must be there for her.  We must help her emerge from the trap of her own esteem and thinking.

One hand outstretched in the darkness is worth a million words on this computer screen.  Call your friend.  Stop by for a visit.  Help her.  She needs you.



(This post is in participation with the One Wee Voice Violence Against Women Campaign.  Please visit Life - Inspired by the Wee Man for more information and links on this issue.)