Changes

Yesterday morning, we talked - had a good talk, actually, although - again - my issues were thrown in my face, he kept saying he wasn't trying to shame me. I cried and he cried. He even said the day I move out will be one of the hardest days of his life. We talked about not wanting the relationship to end, but he felt it must. Thought it was what was best for me.

As he got up to leave, he hugged me, kissed the top of my head and went upstairs to go to work.

I was just sitting there, crying, thinking about everything that had been said, wondering why I am more willing to forgive than him.

I went to the store, bought a six-pack, and went to my sitting spot. I didn't even want to drink - not at all. Wasn't in the mood, was just hurting.

I texted him as much - told him I didn't want to drink. He said to pour it out and do something different. I asked him why we couldn't work it out...told him if we can't work through the tough times, how could we ever be a couple. Told him people who've been together for 50 and 60 years didn't quit during the hard times. Promised I would do things differently, if he would do the same. He was relatively amenable and I started to think a lot differently.

Started to think about the easy changes I could make - drinking being one of them. I don't need to drink, don't crave it, just drink to numb.

So I poured it out. I did something different. I came home, laid down and took a nap. When I awoke, I started dinner. He was in the shower.

I was excited, actually, because I thought we reached a different place; a place of reconciliation where we might be able to work through these issues we're both having.

I was also proud of myself for choosing something different. To me, it was like a small token of my commitment - a literal gift to show him how serious I was about working through it.

As I cooked dinner, he went upstairs. I could hear him up there. I wondered if he had an appointment with his therapist, but then noted the time - too late for that, so maybe he's just getting dressed.

Dinner was almost done when he came downstairs. Dressed to go out, cologne and all.

"I'm making dinner for you guys," I said to him, half-heartrboken, half-hopeful.

"I wish I'd known," he answered. "I ate at 4:30 and I'm not hungry."

I just looked at him.

He said: "I'm going down to the marina and then I'll probably go to [the bar] afterwards."

It sunk into my heart like a knife.

"So I guess I'm the only one who's supposed to do things differently?" I ask.

I began to cry. Chin-shaking, heart-aching cry. I had felt so good to do something different and so hopeful...
so hopeful....

"You just don't want me to have a life," he said to me at one point.

I could have just died.

I felt so rejected. So abandoned...again. Mocked. I was giving something - a small step, small token - only to have it thrown back in my face. I felt ridiculous, like a fool.

I cried out the door as he left, "You're wrong! You're so wrong!"

And then I sobbed and sobbed for awhile in my room.

I cleaned myself up, fed Trevor.

Grabbed my cooler and headed to my spot.

I sat there on the dock....so cool, so peaceful. I was so devastated that he wouldn't even try. Wouldn't even discuss trying.

I had my bottle of water with me, and I sat there drinking it. A kayaker went by, waved. I waved back.

Somehow it made me think - seeing this kayaker - that drinking isn't what I want to do, not at all. I had at least a six-pack with me and I could've but I just didn't want it.

I sat at my spot for about 30 minutes and then came home. Originally, I had texted him saying, "Well, I guess I'll just do the same thing you're doing, then." (something like that). But then I texted him and told him I wasn't going to drink tonight, that I don't want to and that I was merely telling him for the sheer joy of telling him.

Which is true - I didn't tell him to try and change his mind because I'd already decided - the moment he walked out the door - that I deserve better. I deserve to be treated fairly, instead of constantly put down and shamed. (I know there's one person that'll probably read this and be like, "Thank God!" because she wants nothing more than to see Gary and I stay split up).

Yeah, I told him almost to just rub it in his face....to say it's not for him, it's for me and he can have "his life" all he wants.

I came home, watched a movie (The Preacher's Wife....was good), and then a couple other t.v. shows. By midnight, I was tired and he still wasn't home. I knew where he was and who he was with, but I just didn't care.

I just don't care anymore.

Someone who wanted to work it out, would do something different than he did last night.

Just like I did.

I didn't drink at all... and it felt good.