~Risk~

When I broke things off with Special Man friend, I had no plans past that day; that week.  I gave up.  I walked away from the most important chosen relationship of my adult life, for several reasons, which I have been trying to make sense of, and peace with for several months.

I had no plans to be sitting in a coffee shop with him three months later, though I am happy that we are trying to remain connected.  Our split did not happen because of lack of love.  I don’t know what is going to happen, and to be honest, that makes me crazy.  We remain important to each other in a not quite platonic way, but we are not romantically involved, though we still hold hands, which is very soothing and comfortable.

I miss him. He is here, but we are trying to redefine our relationship and sometimes it feels kind of awkward and uncomfortable.  He says he hasn’t gone away, and doesn’t want me to go away.

I am single and solo.  I have not felt ready to truly pursue other connections, though I have been on several dates. This breakup triggered unresolved grief from my exhusband’s suicide, so that has been added into the pot of things I need to deal with.  I’ve started going to a “survivors of suicide loss” group, and it’s helping.  Just walking into the room the first night was huge.

I am doing well.  I feel glimmers of myself getting brighter.  I have been working through a major depressive disorder, and realizing that it has likely been with me for many years.  It doesn’t account for all the things that went wrong with SMF, but I am convinced that it was a major contributing factor, even if that just means that my foundation of “being” in the world and relating to people has been flawed and even shut down for a long, long time.  My exhusband of 16 years battled mental illnes…and I held everything together.  I realize now that I have been cycling through periods of major depression since my teens, but you don’t know what you don’t know. There was always a reason to be stressed and tired: small children, a volitile husband, working the nightshift.  Teenagers.  Being the sole parent and breadwinner.

I could always rationalize how I was feeling, and I assumed that was just part of being a grownup.

It makes me sad and mad that I lost so many years feeling bad.

So here I am.  Figuring it out.  Reaching out for support. Trying to own my shit, because I hurt a lot of people, and shut a lot of people out.  My sweet friend Amy told me a couple of months ago that I needed to let people love me.  And that she had been waiting for me to come back for a long time.

I am flooded with emotions almost every day, and it almost feels like I am having to feel the emotions and feelings of the last twenty five years…every single one of them.

Some days it’s terrifying.  And still, I have to do it, feel it, and try somehow to release it.

It feels risky to be sitting here with SMF.  To be vulnerable in being honest and trying to heal ourselves, and our relationship, whatever it looks like.  We may end up being best platonic friends until we die.  We may end up deciding together that it’s time for our paths to diverge completely.  We may decide to revisit and continue a romantic attachment.

I cannot predict.  One day I think I know which direction we are going, and 24 hours later I am equally convinced of something completely different.  SMF says to be open and present, and free of expectations.

And that just makes me crazy.