The last couple days have been a serious struggle when it comes to my overthinking, mental health and just the never ending thoughts when it comes to Nick. I thought I was doing good. I’m not.
I have so much bigger shit to worry about I haven’t really been thinking about him, us or relationships in general. Just trying to focus on life, work, this house. Yesterday though I took all 3 kids to see their mom (E and her siblings - 7 and 9). 420 miles round trip. 6 hours in the car to think as all 3 of the kids were amazing. Driving to the same city Nick lives. So many memories, thoughts, issues.
I’d of been a bawling mess if I didn’t have the big kids with me so that was good. Only a few tears slipped down my cheeks. I recentered fairly well but it still really hurts.
Just thoughts of how we should be spending the long weekend together. How if it was normal I’d of been driving back from him and not with the kids. How different it should be. Could be. Thoughts of him spending the weekend with someone else while I still just feel grief. Wondering what she has that I don’t have. So many thoughts on that drive.
I entirely and utterly fell for him. It’s been a year this week since we started talking. Nearly a year since we met. Those 8 months with him were quite possibly the best 8 months I’ve had in any relationship. Seriously.
Things were great. Amazing. Nearly perfect. We had two small issues. One was my fault and I took the credit in the first month. One was… well stupid… and we moved past it. We spent at least one day every weekend together… for 8 months. Often more days. We went camping, boating, to Vegas, to dinners, to events, paddle boarding. It was great. So great. We were so active. He was so consistent. I knew what was coming 99% of the time. Literally, he wasn’t perfect. But he was the closest thing I’d ever had to perfect.
It was literally the life I’d always wanted. I just thought we were taking things slow. He said he didn’t want to introduce his kids until 8-12 months. I accepted that at face value. It made sense. I understood. I always felt like a priority on the weeks he didn’t have the kids. I always felt like I mattered. Like I meant something to someone.
When he told me in November-ish that his life would be too busy in January to be with me due to volleyball I felt like he was stressing for nothing. Of course we could make it work. I’m flexible. We could find the time. Plus, that would nearing 8 months. Nearing the time he said we had to wait to meet the kids. Volleyball season would just be a little hiccup. It’d be fine.
We were still planning our Vegas trip. Still spending every weekend together. Planning birthdays in January. Why would you be doing that if you planned to break up with someone in January? In my head that doesn’t make sense. At all. If you planned to leave someone that you were only dating, wouldn’t you just leave, not prolong it?
I was blindsided in January when he announced it was time. We couldn’t see each other anymore. He literally gave me my birthday present, took me to a Brazilian Steakhouse for birthday dinner and then told me that was it. I argued. I begged. I pleaded. For the week. I tried to explain how it could work. Why it could work. He maintained he wouldn’t have time and he didn’t want us to become work. He had to focus on his kids.
I dropped it and spent days on end in bed. Bawling hysterically. Wondering what I did to deserve this. Feeling my heart shatter. Begging God to just let me die. I didn’t go to work. I didn’t eat. I literally just sobbed. For hours every day. I had an actual plan to make it end. Life has never been that dark. Somehow I’m still here. Though I’m not sure at what point I decided to stay. Maybe we just got close to the day of E’s birth? I have no real idea.
I texted him the week E was born. I was in his city for her birth. I nicely asked if he wanted to do dinner or coffee. Whatever. He only replied with something like “I’m sorry I can’t”. I held my head up high, I held back the tears, I replied with something like, “Just wanted to offer just incase. I wish you nothing best. I hope you can find the life you want and deserve.” He replied with the same. Please note… I was so internally angry I meant that he didn’t deserve shit and that’s what I hope he finds.
I then let it go. If he didn’t want me he didn’t deserve me. He told me in November he didn’t want me when he announced our future break up. I didn’t listen. He told me in early January he didn’t want me when he mentioned volleyball and no time. I didn’t listen. He told me when he ended it he didn’t want me. I didn’t listen. So this time, I listened, kind of…
Well, see… I left him alone. I tried dating. I have thrown every ounce of myself into raising E. Focused on that perfect girl. Worked. Stayed busy. I’ve done everything I can to not think about Nick. To not text him. To not call him. I thought if I just gave it 30 days like they say I’d feel better (I didn’t). I thought if I went on dates I’d forget him, realize he wasn’t that great (I didn’t). I thought maybe he’d reach out (He didn’t). I thought I’d just simply move on (sure not).
After those 30 days I started thinking… He ended it because of his girls schedule. When that was over he’d have time again then. Right? Then we could resume the magic we had. Then he’d have no reason to not be with me. He liked me as much as I liked him. He had to of. At least in my head.
Mid-April, 3 months post-break up, 90 days. My heart still ached. I texted him about my house issues. He actually responded. Nice conversation. We texted sporadically over the next couple weeks. I wasn’t needy. I wasn’t too much. I was perfect. Just enough, but not too much. I stalked his daughter’s schedule and found out when Volleyball ended. I mentioned during one exchange I needed to go but would text him when volleyball was over and maybe we could meet up. He told me not to bother. We couldn’t be together. Why not? “Too many variables. Work. Kids. Locations. Blah blah.” Of course I texted him back a solution to each of those and I’d text him them.
He told me. I didn’t listen.
Instead I texted him the last weekend of volleyball. He replied. It was like old times. I waited a few days. Then texted again, offering to come up the following weekend. He told me he’d be busy with his mom for Mothers Day. I wished him a great time and mentioned maybe another weekend. He then replied… “I’ve moved on. I’m sorry.” I held my head up yet again, fakely smiled as I texted that I wished him well and just wanted to take the chance before giving up. He texted me some bullshit on how I have a great life. I replied that actually, I didn’t as I didn’t have the life I’d always dreamt of”. He replied with some more shit about how he didn’t have the life he wanted either. I never replied again.
I cried all night. My heart shattered all over again. I questioned why. I don’t understand. I will never understand. I was perfect for him. I’d of done anything he wanted. I’d of moved. I’d of given him all of my money. I’d of saved as he wanted. Literally, at that point I’d of done anything that man wanted.
All that’s repeated in my head for two weeks are the words “I’ve moved on”. He was too busy for me? Yet, he had time to move on? Too busy, yet he had the time to build something new from scratch? Too busy, but not for someone else?
I’ve fought the urge to text him. I wanted to send him some pictures. Almost did. I didn’t though. I didn’t text. I didn’t call. I didn’t wish him Happy Memorial Day. (He wished me a Happy Mother’s Day days after telling me he moved on. I didn’t reply.)
This time I listened. This time he showed me and I watched. This time he told me and I heard him. I heard the actual words. Not the words I wanted to hear. The words he said. I didn’t twist them to fit the narrative I wanted to hear. I didn’t try to adapt them to fit my unanswered prayers. I simply let them soak in.
He doesn’t want to be with me. I don’t know why. I will never know why. That’s his choice though. He doesn’t have to be with me. He gets to decide that I’m simply not what he wants and move on. He doesn’t have to explain why.
Me. I get to listen. I get to remind myself I deserve someone who does pick me. I deserve someone who wants to be with me. Who adores me. Who loves me. That apparently isn’t him. I’m listening. I hear it this time. I’m moving on too. My heart hurts. I’m bawling as I type this. I know I deserve better though. I just have to wait for my heart to catch up. I’ll be okay. Whoever is truly meant for me is out there, somewhere. Maybe it’s simply E & my purpose in life is simply loving her. Maybe it some amazing man. I have no idea. I’m just going to try and live in the present. Process this heartbreak and trust when the time is right whatever is meant to be will be.
It’s hard but I’m going to be better in the end. I think part of why this is so hard is I’m letting myself feel it. I’m trying to stay busy but I do let myself acknowledge it when the pain creeps up before putting it away. I’m going to do everything right this time and feel my feelings, go on dates, heal me, be open to finding the right person. This is the most adult thing I’ve probably ever done. Even my divorce wasn’t like… this.
I have done some thinking though. Tried to see what the problem was. I’ve came up with… it’s simply him. This is what he does. He’s been divorced 4 years and never introduced anyone to his kids. Breaking up with them at the 8-12 month mark. He asked me once if I thought he was a narcissist. No. Of course not. Why? He’d found out his ex-wife had told some people that’s why they got divorced. Wow. No. Crazy. Do I think he was a full blown narcissist? No, I was married to one of those. He wasn’t that bad.
Do I think he has some narcissistic tendencies? Now, yes, definitely. Looking at it from a distance. Yes. He was controlling. He used the silent treatment as a weapon during those two arguments. He definitely manipulated me into doing whatever he wanted - going to bed super early, getting up early, eating what he wanted, going where he wanted, spending my money how it wanted, talking to he wanted. He expected the world to do what he wanted. If someone upset him he cut them out of his life entirely. He felt his view was the only view. Nobody will ever measure up and be good enough for him.
I was okay with that though. It sounds insane to say - but I’d still be okay with that if he’d of chosen me. Maybe I was so comfortable and so okay with it because it reminded me of my marriage. Because I honestly am not sure I know how to live without being controlled. Because it was like going back to what I knew. Maybe that’s why it’s so hard this time? It’s like subconsciously losing my marriage all over again. I was okay because he was better than my husband. He didn’t hit. He didn’t scream. He had time for me and didn’t just get high. He gave me the control I’d learned to live with but skipped the violence and really bad parts.
After nearly a year, I have to stop letting him control my thoughts and actions. I have to figure out how to think and do for myself and that’s scary. It’s hard. Accepting I can and should think for myself is tough. That’s like never been allowed my whole life. First it was the religious cult. Then my husband. A lifetime of control. Of course, I soaked it in when I found a “healthy” version of it. (Yes, I know that sounds ridiculous. It wasn’t healthy. But the healthiest.)
My endless rambling has really walked me through a lot tonight actually. The tears have stopped. I’m still sad. I still miss him and miss the future I’d created in my head with him.
Yet, I know I need to choose me. I need to be healthy. I deserve someone who loves me for me and wants to be my partner and not just in charge of me. I’m a little more okay with this than I was when I started typing tonight.
I read the book Detached a couple weeks ago. It was amazing. It really helped me start to evaluate this differently and focus on choosing me. I’d like to write about this more but I need to do other things for tonight. Maybe tomorrow.
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