Breaking Open

28 May

Sure, we’d broken up several other times during the course of our years-long relationship (please refer to the article I’m Gonna Die Alone… and I Feel Fine from 6/22), but this time it was over for good; this time it imploded in epic fashion.

I was pulling out of my driveway to go to the gym, which I had re-committed to since making reservations to Glenwood Hot Springs to celebrate my boyfriends’ birthday. If I was gonna dust off/wear the ol’ bathing suit, it wouldn’t happen whilst carrying the extra fifteen pounds I’d put on earlier this year. Then it hit me- I wasn’t going anywhere: not the gym, not his oldest daughter’s college graduation in two days, and certainly not three fun-filled days in Glenwood. Any and all plans came to an abrupt halt. This was not a time for resuming the status quo- it was time for a reckoning.

If I were being honest with myself, things hadn’t been going well for some time. About two months ago we had a heart to heart where he said “I feel like you love me but you don’t really like me.” We’d had two prior couples therapists that didn’t work out for various reasons- hearing those words motivated me to seek a third. I knew I was angry and frustrated, which resulted in me having a short fuse with him. Did I think he hadn’t noticed? But how could anyone not notice when the elephant in the room was causing me to have complete meltdowns over the most obscure and minute things- like a cracked phone screen, and/or not wanting to go to Walmart (does anybody, really?) We’d been having the same issues and conversations for so long that I began to resent him, our relationship, and most of all, myself for allowing the suffering to continue.

Deep down I knew another therapist wasn’t the answer, but within weeks, we found ourselves sitting in Lorraine’s office, pouring our hearts out. Over the years I’d gotten really good at holding onto any sliver of hope I could find, and in that moment, Lorraine was it. So it was agreed that he and Lorraine would meet (just the two of them) to help get him up to speed, thus allowing couples’ therapy to be more effective. The reason for this was because I’d been in therapy on and off for three decades, whereas he’d been going for about four years, and we both had a lifetime of trauma that needed to be unpacked in order for us to have a fighting chance.

But that sliver of hope faded suddenly when epiphanies began smacking me upside the head. It seemed the clarity that I’d been seeking came all at once, and it was undeniable. You’re hurting him- you’re not happy- you need to love him and yourself enough to let go. 

So, knowing this, of course I did the right thing and broke up with him, right? Nope!

I opted for an impromptu phone call where I word vomited all the reasons why we had to end things- the term toxic came up more than once; basically, I said everything BUT it’s over. Then I got scared and began back-pedaling, saying “Don’t worry, we’re still gonna carry out all our plans. I’m just frustrated. I think I just need to meet with you and Lorraine so I can sort this out. Love you.” And just like that, my delusions in full force, I had successfully managed to keep our relationship intact. 

However, unbeknownst to me, two of his daughters were present when he got off the phone that night and asked if we’d broken up. “Yeah, I think that’s what just happened,” he told them. The truth wouldn’t reveal itself to me until I left for the gym the next day.

The crazy thing was, I actually felt better the next morning. Not only had I gotten tons of concerns off my chest, but I’d managed to salvage our union, yet again. But I knew something was up when he messaged me he’d made it to work and failed to say I love you; he wasn’t sure if he should message me at all because unlike me, he knew we’d broken up! 

I held tightly to the facade that all was well until my psyche could tolerate it no further; in that moment I just snapped- I completely unraveled. I pulled my car into the nearby cul-de-sac and cried the tears of cruel reality. “You’re trying so hard to control everything, and in reality, you’re not in control of shit!” I scolded myself. It was one of those moments where if someone saw you they’d think you were crazy…and they’d be right. Years of rowing upstream and refusing to accept what is, will do that. I’d finally reached the point of true surrender, where there was nothing left to control or to save. Letting go was the only power I had left, and it was clear that if I ever truly loved him I had to set us free- and so, finally, I did.

We spoke on the phone several days later, and it was a conversation best described as “brutiful.” We weren’t angry, just sad. We weren’t blaming one another, we just sat in our truth. There was an acceptance that hadn’t been there in previous breakups between us. We thanked each other for showing us things about ourselves we wouldn’t have seen otherwise. We wished each other well, and the best part is- we meant it. 

I recall my deep frustrations over a ketamine session I had months ago. Oftentimes, I’ll get a profound message (or several) during a session- especially if I’m struggling; so I pleaded with the medicine to impart some wisdom regarding our relationship. To my dismay, all I got was “You can’t save him- only love him.” Though he never asked me to save him, I now realize how relevant that message was. In reality, we can’t “save” anyone, but we can always love them. There is a great deal of power in the energy of that love, and it continues to heal in ways we don’t always understand. 

I believe that our relationship was exactly what we needed, for as long as it needed to be. It taught us the lessons that only we could teach one another. Now, in order for us both to grow and evolve, we must be apart- and I’ve come to accept that that growth wouldn’t happen otherwise. This is how I need to look at our situation so that I’m at peace and not angry and bitter. It really comes down to a choice, because I could easily go down the rabbit hole of despair- but who benefits from that? Certainly not me. If I’m going to honor the impact this person had on me, I can only do it by embodying what he saw in me in that I so often failed to- the best version of myself:)