We avoided each other all through Sunday School. One of the ushers was out so he filled in and only sat with me through the sermon. It was a good sermon. They always are. That’s why I drive an hour to get to church. I always here what I need to hear. Short, sweet, to the point. The Good News. Today, brought to you by the word WILL.
We shared a table with my kids and a few old ladies through a pancake breakfast. Speaking hardly a word. I waved good bye and headed out the door. He called me back. I walked slowly, careful in my healed boots. I always dress well for church. Carefully conservative and classically stylish. He wanted to know if I wanted the bag of my clothes he had in his car.
In the parking lot, discretely transferring my dirty laundry from his back seat to my trunk.
P: “I’ll call you later.”
Me: “Yeah OK.”
No, I’m well beyond mad at this point. I’ve gone through hurt. I’ve gone through angry. Now I am in my place of cold, cruel logic. He is my soul mate. He is also a master manipulator and an expertly subtle abuser. I am too. When we’re good, we’re amazing. When we’re bad, we’re evil.
And today that cold, cruel logic rules me. I. Am. Tired. We had another fight. My walls are high today.
I am tired of being told how I feel.
I am tired of being wrong no matter what I do.
I am tired of his insisting on his superiority and whining that he is on a pedestal.
I am tired of saying I am sorry.
I am tired of crazy making mixed messages.
I am tired of being expected to read his mind.
I am tired of having to jump through hoops.
I am tired of the with holding game.
I am tired of crazy making.
I am tired of “come here, go away, come here, go away.”
I am tired of being punished for not dropping everything and then accused of making him be my life.
I am tired of being hurt.
I am tired of crying.
I am tired of being compromised.
I am not done. I don’t know why. Anyone else would have been given the grand Fuck You long ago. Actually, I have given him much worse than just a Fuck You over the years. But he and I, we cannot escape each other. We have no choice but to figure it out and figure it out together.
But me, my mirror broke yesterday. Both literally and metaphorically. And I am changing my part. I cannot change his. He is perfect and all the mistakes are mine (insert evil sarcastic chuckle here). But me, me I can change. I know he will hate it. I Don’t Care.
No, he doesn’t get to order me to be angry. And he doesn’t know what’s coming. It’s not the anger he knows he deserves. It’s not the soft walk on me forgiveness he expects.
No. It is me refusing to play my part in this game anymore. I WILL only love. Love God. Love myself. Love my neighbor. Including my neighbor who breaks my heart. And right now he is best loved by me refusing to fight, to be his play thing, to put my ante in. He doesn’t get to decide if I am angry. I get to. I am not angry. I am thinking with both my head and my heart now.