way to start the new year.

Before this year even started, it was bad. The month of December turned out to be mostly a nightmare – but luckily I was so upset for a large portion of it that I hardly remember it.
I want to write about what happened. I do. But I don’t know how, really. It was the most out of nowhere, flat on my face break up I’ve ever been dealt. I’m thankful that he tried to be gentle but at the same time I’m pissed as hell about it. I really wanted to try to believe some of what he was saying. I did. We had our problems, and something had happened in the month or so leading up to the break up. We weren’t enjoying our time together anymore – and I think honestly a lot of that was due to us taking on too much. When you’ve got so many other things going on, the quality of certain things can suffer. That was us. He’d come out, and while I was happy I was also kind of wishing he wouldn’t. I needed down time as did he. However, my other things weren’t the same as his. And that’s fine. But admit it. You didn’t want to come spend time with me because all you have been doing since the season started is watching football with your boys and drinking. Lots and lots of drinking. And you know what’s changed since the break up? Nothing. We talk lots. We get along. We’re somewhat rejuvenated in our attitudes toward one another. The difference comes in the fact that he doesn’t have to come out to see me – he has another free day to spend with his boys to watch football and to drink, drink, drink. I wanted to believe it was a 2-way street and we were both at fault for things and maybe that we really didn’t get along so great and that we didn’t have anything in common and maybe he did love me so much that he just didn’t want to hold me back and maybe he really did just decide that he suddenly wasn’t happy anymore. I thought about it as I promised him I would and you know what?? It’s bullshit. It comes down to one of the first things he said – that he’s 35 years old and no longer living life on his terms. Or at least he didn’t see it as he was. I asked of him only one day/night a week – Saturday. If he wasn’t able to do that, maybe another night (which was usually met with resistance). He felt that he shouldn’t have to explain to me why he didn’t want to spend time with me when there were things going on with his friends. I tried to be nice about all of that. Honestly. But you know what? Uh-uh. He had 6 other days/nights a week to spend with him and apparently that turned out not be enough. It’s not my fault that they don’t want to be bothered with him during the week. I’d have taken my time during the week if it meant getting to see more of him. They can’t be bothered. What’s worse? He can’t see that. I’m tired of trying to justify this to myself to make my heart feel better. It doesn’t work and it’s not going to. He chose his bachelor lifestyle over me. That fucking sucks. I’m tired of him getting away with all of the excuses. If any of this was really caused by what he tried to tell me it was we wouldn’t still talk the way we do. There’s no way. And I’m tired of trying to make myself believe that this really was caused by both of us. It’s absolutely just not true. The blame for this rests solely on his sad shoulders and I refuse to help him with the weight of it.

I am so sick of being sick. I have no voice but a squeak. I want to be better now, damn it.