Letters to him...

Third Thursday..

Two weeks and one day...

Yesterday I got to see you, multiple times.  And you looked good. You brought over Addie and Wes. The sheer magnitude of the entire couple weeks hit me like a ton of bricks and I broke down.  Standing in the driveway, I lost my ability to do anything. All I could was cry.  All I do was hold on to you.  The tears tasted like salt as they flowed freely down my cheeks. Your hoodie absorbed most. But they wouldn't stop.  I probably would have cried all day if I thought you would have stayed.  But...Addie. At least I did tell you I miss you.

I spent the majority of the day laughing and smiling with 3 wonderful kids.  Addie tore my heart out. She misses me.  She misses me... And her tears were evident she was speaking truth.   I know this is going to take him and God send me glimpses of hope every day.  Your cell phone still has my picture on it.  My pictures are still up in your house. Your smile....

I sent a text this morning that said I was praying for your safety.  While that is true, I am also praying for you. I am praying God brings you back to me.

Letters to him...

Wednesday (2 weeks later)...

I felt so much better yesterday. After praying over you, after getting confirmation Addie would be coming over.  Its normal but not. You're not part of it.   And the pain I get every time I think of a memory is gut wrenching. It takes my breath away.

I messed a lot of things up.  I have some stuff to deal with on my own. Just don't forget us and walk away like I didn't exist. I did...and I am still here. You keep talking to me like we just met. I wonder if you're even sad. I wonder if you even miss me. But most of all, I wonder if you even want to try again.  Have you written me off like I was never a part of your life? Have you taken my pictures down? Have you discarded them into the trash or a drawer like your feelings for me?  I never intended for this to happen.  I just wanted to matter to you like you mattered to me.

Yesterday was also the day I realized you were trying. You picked me up that day and carried me inside the lodge.  You laid me down...

Another day you wrapped your arms around me and held me from behind...

Don't let those things disappear. We can get through this. God will help us if we let him guide us. If Jesus can restore the church and the temple and has faith in people, he can restore this relationship. Lay everything in front of him. Bare your soul. Comebacks are way better than setbacks.

Letters to him...

Second Tuesday...

The familiar text tone came yesterday. You texted.  A reply to a Happy Birthday for Warren but you texted. The silent treatment was over.  We texted about workouts and then it was done.

This morning I woke to a dark room, uneasy at  best.  The gloominess from the rain provided the darkness. The stillness. The motor of the fan gave a rhythm that was calming. I just needed to listen. I was tossing and turning and fighting the urges like most days.  It was different. I sat up and asked "What God?"   I needed to pray with you and for you. I needed to talk to you through Jesus.  It was early so I laid there for another hour until I sent the text, asking you to call or come by.   Delivered.... Now that wait.  Your call came within minutes.  You were pleasant.  You were receptive when I asked if I could pray. You listened when I asked for forgiveness. You remained quiet while I prayed for your safety and for God to wrap you up in his arm. You didn't sigh when I said I was sorry my hurts became your hurts. At the end you gave an Amen and a Thank you.  Conversation continued for a bit. Small talk about the week.

I didn't get upset when you said you would bring my Keurig back.  I knew you didn't like it anyways. I am glad you broke down and got your own pot.

Addie is coming to see me tomorrow. She misses me. Wes may be coming too. I wanted to ask you so many other things but the silence is where I get answers. I do want to know if my pictures are still up. I do want to know what your background is on your phone. Only God knows those things.  I don't want to become a memory to you. I'm glad your running again and spending time with your kids. Those are so important. Please just don't forget me. Don't let me go. I am right here waiting...

Letters to him...

Second Monday Post 2...

A wave of sadness has engulfed me. I can't breathe. I struggle to come up out of this. The pressure on my chest. My rapidly beating heart. And then the tears...

This isn't ok. I long to hear the familiar ringtone or thunk of a text from you. I long to see your truck pull into my drive. I long to hold you. To laugh with you. To be with you.

I wonder if this is what a near drowning feels like? The waves keep pounding me and knocking me back down. I can't stand up....

Jesus....sweet Jesus.. I crying out to you. Pull me out of this. Make this better.

Letters to him...

Second Monday...

I woke up this morning a little different. You were on my mind like most days. I scrolled through social media gradually got up to get through this day, a day that I know we would be spending together.  These are the hardest. These days are mean.  These days hurt.

I tell myself the hurt will get better but with every memory, the scab is torn open. How I long to lie to next to you, to kiss you, to hold you.

I want to mad. I deserve to be mad. But I'm not. I love too much to be mad at you.  I just want you to realize you aren't alone in anything. The Father loves so so much.  I just want to know where it went wrong? Where it got so messed up?  Where you changed?

Talking to Matt yesterday was beneficial for me.  Nobody understands. Not your friends or your family.  Come back to me. Come back to me so we work through this together. Yesterday I went for a drive, something I have done so many times in the past couple weeks, and I was blinded by the tears, I lost control of my car for a moment. The sliding of my tires and the sound of gravel, my heart beating 100 beats a minute made me stop.  What is wrong with me?   That particular I was driving to your house. I was going to give some stuff back.  But you weren't home. The gate locked...much like your heart.

Letters to him

Second Sunday...

The endless miles I continue to drive searching...for peace, for clarity, for a dam to stop the tears.  I replay every conversation in my head. I read notes I had written in my phone.  Same story, different day.  I just wanted to truly matter. I just wanted a fair shake.  I wanted to be loved like you loved her.  I'm nothing like her. I value you. I love you.  And I spent every day trying to prove that.

I woke early today as usual. No tears. But I did drive. I drove to see the sunrise. I would give anything to have viewed it from the top of your house. I would give anything to have watched it with you.

The wedding was yesterday.  I prayed so hard and I continue to pray for a miracle. My miracle. My love. My heart. Very selfish of me.   But I just get a feeling with you. That this is the icky part. This is our trial. This is something we have to get through. I pray that God keeps you pure in heart. I pray he keeps you honorable to your word. I pray he keeps you. Mostly I pray you keep him.

This unknown is that pain. The bone chilling, stabbing pain of the unknown. I would walk through fire for those I love, carrying buckets of water. For you, I'd carry two...

Letters to him...

Second Saturday...

I woke up early and I don't feel good. My stomach isn't well today. I woke up and couldn't breathe again.  After a night with a couple good friends sharing insight and wisdom and laughing and praying I fell asleep peaceful.  But I woke up. I woke in knots. I woke up scared, yearning to text or call you. Yearning to do something. But the pain is real today.  Today? I'm not doing today.

Yesterday was good. I had the kids. Jennifer brought them to me. Addie is so very precious and I love all of those kids. I think they know. I think they realize you're ending this. I think they realize you're tossing me aside for something better.  If that better is you healing, I am all for it...

You picked them up. You smiled. You made conversation. You hugged. You did it all. I'm still here and I still love you. I still want us. The mind space I have is so messed up. Peace. Be still. Grace. That's what people are getting. I hope I'm still listening. Only God can do this...

Letters to him...

Second Friday...

When you start to put walls up it gets scary. It becomes damning. I spent so very long breaking down immense barriers built from scars of a lifetime of heartbreak. And I came out on the other side. I was victorious. I was me again. I battled a truckload of past demons and I won. I even liked myself again. And then I met you...

You were everything I was looking for. You filled all my empty places. I fell in love with you quickly and passionately. I fell in love with your kids. I fell in love with all your secrets and your passions because we are so much alike. We have similar hurts. We have similar baggage. I had just dealt with mine. The relationship was good. It was fun. It was everything. I poured a lot into it. All the time. Every day. I managed time like a boss. I could do my life and still be with you. I got used to things. And then she came into light.

Your relationship with her was bad. It didn't start the right way or end the right way. You were so crushed and continue to be crushed that  your heart wasn't full, even for me. The woman that was doing everything. The woman that was giving everything. I knew it was gonna take time to break through some of it. I just honestly thought I would eventually mean enough for you to set her aside. For you to put me first. For you to set up boundaries with her.

I know today that I am not good enough. I am not enough...

When you put up walls it gets scary...

Letters to him...

Second Thursday...

I am writing to you again today because it's easier than laying down in bed.  Sleep is really hard to come by.  I am worn out. I am hungry. But I am sad. I miss you. I miss couch laying, phone watching, nacho eating evenings where the levels of banter could be extreme. I hate that this week would be our week. I hate that I don't get to see you or talk to you, not even close, not even a little, not even at all.

I have a little more wind in my sails in this very second. I spent a lot of time in prayer today. I spent a lot of time in the presence of Godly women who spoke truth into me. Who spoke value into me. But mostly spoke hope for me.  Everyone sees your levels of brokenness. But everyone sees the ability to heal.  I am not the only one who sees patience as a lesson God is teaching. I am supposed to take a step back in this moment and let God work a miracle in your life. One woman said she sees we can be happy together with enriched lives but patience must prevail.  God has got to be in the drivers seat. God has to get our attention. Another said in order for God to work a miracle his will had to be done. So I am praying for God's will in all of this. I haven't been told to leave so I am here. I am right here waiting. When your hand is grabbed and another joins alongside you in a tearful prayer it gets real. People notice and people expect the miracle. Please put your pride aside. God is moving and he is working and he is about to show his might. He is about to force change. I pray he breaks you so you see what is right in front of you, waiting with arms wide open.

Letters to him...

The second Thursday...

To say I miss you is an understatement. I want to hold you with every single ounce of my being. Tears continue to fall and emotions come in waves. I am all over the place. I get angry. I get nauseated. But mostly I am sad.

You called yesterday. I was shocked to hear the familiar ring tone and the hair on my neck stood on end. I wanted it to be a good conversation. I wanted my prayers to be answered. But...sadly those things didn't come. It had been shy of 3 days since I had heard your voice. You hadn't dialed my phone number in a week. And you were fine. You made small talk.  You asked about my day. I answered with a form of anticipation that maybe you would say things were gonna be okay. I asked you questions and you answered with a familiarity of conversations before. And then I opened my mouth and asked the question that would prove to be the demise of the relationship. "What are you doing? What is this?"  You replied simply with a vague response of checking in and a quick assurance you would call in a couple days. A couple days? I had waited three to hear from you and now I would have to wait another couple. Knowing that didn't set well summoned up the voice from within my heart, the one that hits a nerve with you, the one that you don't want to hear.

You said you were doing you and that you didn't want to work on us. You were too busy.  As I resisted the urge to let the tears make a sound, I heard my own voice say "girlfriend".  And because the emotional roller coaster was on the first loop of the track, I faintly heard you say since you didn't want to work on us, we should just be friends. As the coaster headed up the hill, the courage to tell you what the past week had done to me arose. One quick turn around the corner and then the downward descent..."Seriously, you have nothing to say about all this?" I was then reminded of how I had disrespected you in the previous conversation on that Wednesday night. Disrespect...my words...disrespectful.  My truths, my emotions, my feelings had disrespected you.  The inner turmoil was twisting with every turn the conversation was taking. I was experiencing so many things and I couldn't act on anything.  My words of truth, my heart, had made you angry. They hit a spot. I get it. But how can they be worse than what she did to you for so long?

I had said a prayer during the evening asking God to give me strength if you ever called. I had prayed for this moment.  So I told you that I deserved to be heard, that I deserved to say my peace. Yes I pushed. I pushed because that is all I had left to do. Walking away from you was the last thing I wanted. I wanted us. I wanted to make it all better. But you never lifted me up. You kept me under and at every opportunity reminded me where I would always be in the relationship.  It's hard to hear where you rank. Its hard to hear that you will have to apply all the effort. Its hard to hear you may never hear I love you. But I stayed. I endured because I knew God was working in both of us. I knew why I was placed in your life.  I never stood a chance. She will always have your heart. She will always win. I never had a problem with her, I despised your reaction to her every move. I despised your lack of boundaries with her but you openness to constantly give me mine. And with words that gutted me. I was starting to believe I was horrible. I was the reason this was going bad. I truly was a lesser than.

You had nothing to say when the conversation ended. You were hardened. And I hung up broken...

Letters to him...

Wednesday...(one week later)

Two days. Forty-eight long hours. No sign of resolution. Not even a glimmer. I want to be mad. I do. I can deal with those emotions so much easier than those of hurt. I wake up in a panic. With it hard to breathe because I don't want the last time we talked or touched to be the last time. I called my mom so early this morning to talk to her. I know people are getting exhausted about how much I talk about you. I can't to you so I talk about you.

I know that God said patience will prevail. I beg in the stillness of each day, of each night that you think of me. That you think of our good times. Our laughs and our memories. I beg you hold onto those and not let them become memories. I am willing to endure so much more with you. I am willing to walk along you as we both heal from the scars of our past.

Letters to him...

Tuesday...

I passed you again this evening. AJ and I were out messing around and we both saw your truck. He swears you were on the phone and didn't notice. I read a quote this evening that just encompasses everything. "Sometimes memories sneak out of eyes and roll down my cheeks."  How so very true. Every time I close my eyes, I think of you. I can feel you laying next to me. I can see you in my dreams. Don't throw this away...

I have so much to tell you without saying a word. Watch my example. See my actions. Don't throw in the towel on something you know is good.

I am tired. I am worn out. The mental exhaustion is the worst because you can't escape it. It's there when you close your eyes and again when you open them. How long are we going to do this ignoring each other? We are only hurting each other more. Call me. Text me. Message me. Even just one word. That way I know you are thinking of me. I think of you all the time. I'm giving you space. I was told that was best. But in this time of space, please work on us. Please hear the words I said over and over and know I love you and would endure a lot more.

Letters to him...

Tuesday...

I have a feeling I'm going to write to you a lot today.   I have a lot say. So much. But it doesn't' ever come out right. It always comes out wrong to you. But if comes from a place of love, a place of yearning to make it right with you. I talked to my mom this morning. We talked about the dynamic of patience and discerning God's voice. I know some would rather I let you go, I cut all strings and walk away. I try to "find my happy" and "learn to love myself again". That's all rather cliche. I don't hate myself. I hate what we have done to us.

It is repairable. It can be mended. It can be fixed. It is gonna take some time. I think in this season we have to look at the underlying problems and not patch them with a band-aid. Someone the other day asked me what my goal was in this relationship. I didn't have some eloquent words that I wanted the fairy tale. Because that doesn't exist.  This is life. It's messy and real and raw and jumbled and busy but it's worth it. I thought long and hard about her question. I've been lying to myself. I do want a future with you. I do want to share that part of our lives together. I do want to front porch sit with you and grow even older.

I'm sitting here at the table, looking out window with some hope I'll see your truck coming down the hill. I can't stop the tears from flowing. I am heartbroken. I see a future with you. I see the two of us smiling on the river as we hunt rocks. I see the two of us mowing and weed eating outside. I see the two of us laughing in the car on one of our road trips. I can see me sitting on the counter as you cook dinner, reminding me that I am beautiful.  I can see all that. God hasn't taken any of those visions away from me. He hasn't taken you out of my life. It's gonna take God to heal this. It's gonna take time. It's gonna take patience.

Choose me...

Letters to him...

Tuesday...

I have so many thoughts today that I want to share with you. I can't. I have to keep them bottled up inside. I know my friends are tired of hearing about it. I  have exhausted them.  So I guess this is the point I keep it inside or it comes out here. No phone calls today. No exhausting table talks. Nothing. Just me and my thoughts and my pleas to Christ to end this stupidness and bring us back together where we are supposed to be.

I met you in church. I made fun of you. And it attracted you. I would come up with a million insults and a conversation full of our witty banter for the chance to have us again. I can't make the promises you want. I can't tell you she doesn't bother me. I can't tell you that your relationship with her doesn't hurt me. Dating a broken man hurts because you get just enough of him to fall in love. To get attached. To get pushed away.

Today the tears come in buckets. They come freely and continuously like a faucet that is worn from overuse. Because I miss you. I miss us today. I miss the days when she wasn't in our faces. I keep telling myself to mow my own lawn. Today would have been the day I went with you to work.  I keep telling myself you miss me too. I tell myself that you're taking this time to figure it out, to defuse, to think.  I keep telling myself you'll call or stop by. God hears my heart. He's holding my buckets. He's giving me the strength to write all this down. God knows, he's here with me. He provides that one breath that slows my heart rate. He is talking to you too. Listen to him and come back.

Letters to him...

Tuesday...

The overwhelming desire to call you is real. I fight the urge to pick up the phone and hit the button. I'm afraid to look at Facebook because I don't want a memory to pop up glaringly reminding me of my failures. So I drive. I drive all over. I listen to the same songs all the time, fully hoping that the words will sink in.I drive. Today I drove past you in town. I saw the sticker on the front of your truck and your cattle guard. I knew you probably had just left McDonalds getting your sausage, egg and cheese biscuit and large coffee. I passed you and I didn't wave. I didn't look. I didn't want you to see my face. The puffy eyes that are streaked with red. The discolored cheeks from endless salty tears. I passed and I miss you...

Letters to him...

Tuesday...

I woke up early again. This morning I feel different. I'm not mad. I'm struggling because  I want to see you, to hold you, to kiss you and know it's okay. I am fighting with all barrels loaded to not call you in this moment.  I miss you....

Letters to him...

Monday...

Today started out a little better than most days.  I slept a little better in spite of the water mess in my garage and the fact I had to heat water on the stove to shave my legs.  I felt comfortable enough to text you last night and let you know the storm that continued to cloud my week. We had even talked about it briefly at your house in the 3 plus hours I hung around with your daughter on Sunday.

She and I had so much fun during that day. She made me smile and laugh on so many occasions. I would have kept her into the night, knowing the later I took her back the shorter the amount of time I would have to encounter conversations with you. But she has a sweet little heart and disposition and she was so excited to share popsicles with her brothers. She asked in her high pitched voice to take her home so she could enjoy the frozen treats with them. I of course obliged and we embarked on the long road to your house.  My own child had left with a friend so it was just me, no back up. No escape plan. Just me and what was left of my heart for that day. I drove slowly, listening to the Frozen soundtrack, letting my mind wander to conversations that would take place or not happen at all. I was mentally exhausted when I turned on your drive.  She jumped out of the car ready to share with the boys leaving me to get her things and follow her in.

I entered your house and noticed a sense of familiarity of my pictures still in place and my dishes on the counter where I left them. It was like nothing had changed. I walked into your son's room where you all were playing video games and set down on the edge of the open bed. You slipped up and said, "Look's like your mom is back with your sister." And then immediately corrected yourself. Just another notch in the "he is not over her belt".

You finished playing and moved into the kitchen to do dishes and dinner. I just stood there making small talk about hot water heaters and the kids. Your sweet girl continued to ask me to stay, to sit with her, to not leave.  At some point I got close enough to look at a mole on your back and you hugged me. Just a small grab but I leaned in closer and held tight. I wasn't sure another would come so I made the embrace last longer. You must have sensed/felt something because you took a step away and made your way outside. Addie had me follow to play with the kittens. She is relentless. She is 100% girl! I asked you to sit on the swing and promised you wouldn't have to talk. When asked if I was going to talk I replied softly, "I don't have anything left to say."  Sitting led to playing basketball and more small talk...and another long hug.

It was time to leave. I was starting to doubt my strength. I was starting to lose myself and what I am sure would have been the vomiting of all the wrong words. So I left. I got in my car and told myself to not take your "see you later" literally.

I got home to the mess of a busted hot water tank. Because when it rains its pours at my house. The hits keep on coming and I am forced to roll with the punches. Which I did. I was contacted my your sister in law who wanted to talk. We scheduled a time for Monday and I laid down to complete my devotion, slowly drifting off to sleep.

This morning was as mentioned above, okay. After installation of my savings, (HAHA), I went over to the party house determined not to cry and ask for simple prayers of healing for you and your relationship with her and others, including me. A couple hours of sitting at her table revealed that I am not alone in my thinking and that she and your brother agree. I would soon find that your sister does as well. It isn't me. I don't have a "her" thing. You do. You aren't over her. You keep her at the distance you feel she needs to be and swear it's for the kids. Your unwillingness to cast her aside has created this mess for you and I. It isn't me. My mouth is speaking words of truth and you know it. She asked why I stay. Why I keep putting up with it? Why again?  What is my line? It's apology and forgiveness. It's choosing me over her. I haven't done the things she has. I haven't hurt you. So why do it to me?

I knew the evening would be hard. You should be here with me tonight. Eating dinner. Walking. Watching TV. But you're not. I called our friend to fight the urge to call you. He would tell me not to, to let the urge go and to be strong. What I need to hear, not what I want to hear. He did exactly that, promising my strength would gain blessings. He had talked to you briefly. I felt my hair stand on end and my heart fluttered knowing he talked to you. Did he say anything? How did you respond?  You did talk about me, you did make me a villain, you did say all the things I expected.  He said to be patient.  I said okay realizing my line is drawn even if just for today...

Letters to him....

Sunday...

Its been 4 days since that horrible night. So much has happened in those 4 days, but nothing has brought you back.   Nothing has softened your hatred.  I won't lie and say yesterday was an easy one. I struggled to smile and act like I was okay. I prayed for strength at every turn. Knowing you're ignoring me and throwing away our memories is as gut wrenching as it comes. But you know that pain, you have felt it for so many years and you are content to stay there. I never thought I would be your Savior. I was raised and will always believe that is the job of Christ. You took that role and owned that role with her. It wasn't yours to take. He put you in her life and Satan took her out and I am so sorry that happened to you. I am so sorry she crushed your soul to the point you think it's okay to do that to me.

I weighed myself today and ironically I'm below 130.  Celebrations right? Hitting those goals. I am painstakingly putting my all into this because of what I feel I am being led to do. And I know that I have to be patient. So I will fast in moments of drop to your knee prayers. To arms extended to Christ in reverence. To giving him everything.

The messages still come in checking on me. I hurt but I have a passion to please and be obedient to Christ. There have been endless opportunities to end this relationship and it hasn't. I won't let it end now because you're mad it got real. I hit a nerve. Because you realize you need to heal.

Kids sense things. I don't know what you have told yours. But I won't know because you refuse to talk to me. You ignore me and my messages. Your littlest one is here with me again today. She ran to me yesterday at the party and was my shadow. She wanted everything to do with me.  So I let her. No sense hurting the children. You speak so much about how your decisions are the best for your kids. Is this one?  Really? Is taking me out of your life really the best thing for them? She called me today and asked me to come get her so she is here with me and my son. We are laughing and eating french fries and watching cartoons. And she thinks everything is okay.

Your mom came over and sat with me last night for a few hours. She didn't take sides but offered up information I needed. She is joining the army that cares enough to pray for all of this.

I cried this morning at church. Your mom was there to offer companionship.  You should have been there with us and I know you know that. Stop all this. Stop the downward cycle of being unwilling to heal. Stop staying where you were two years ago. You weren't happy.  God placed me in your life to show you what happiness could be and you're trying to throw it away. I have a prayer circle so very big right now surrounding this relationship. I know in time my tears will flow less. I know I will smile again. But with you....

Letters to him

Friday...

My alarm went off and I rolled over to make it stop. I had been awake for some time. I hadn't slept much, waking up in panic with a pain so intense I struggled to catch my breath. Courtney had stayed a while the night before, making sure I was ok and monitoring my attacks. But this morning I had a job to do and laying here in silence wasn't going to get it done.

I got up and started the coffee. I met Pam outside and took in the crisp air. It felt great. After 45 minutes of putting our bodies through some form of band torture, she left to continue her day. The clouds were once again rolling in so I rushed to spread some insect killer on the grass as well as some fertilizer.  I know I was talking to myself. And the numbness that I was growing accustomed to allowed me not to care. I looked and realized that Erin and Brynn were waiting on me so I changed shoes and put her and myself through weighted torture. I wanted to sweat and forget for even an hour.  She left when we were done and I set down in the garage and the tears came. They always do. I messaged you. I know it was stupid but the longing, the pain; I just wanted it to stop.

You didn't reply right away.  But you never do so I waited with some form of childlike anticipation, hoping you woke up and wanted us.  That wasn't the case. Your words came like venom from a snake who was being threatened.  I read them over and over, hoping my eyes were just mixing things up. So despite the fact Karen had showed for her torture, I called you. I, in a moment of sheer panic, hit the button that would produce the sharpest pain I have felt in a long time.

Your words cut like a knife, slicing through my heart with intent. It was beating providing life, but it was struggling. In defense I snapped back determined to keep walls from building. Another mistake. I was becoming a master of destroying my own soul. The overwhelming evidence to the demise of our relationship was thrust into my ear like daggers. So I hung up. I made my way back the garage and crumbled. Karen stayed until that attack passed. She hugged me and just listened. She let me rationalize it as best I could and we set another time to work out.

Courtney called when the next attack came. That specific attack left me without words and summoned up Rhonda to come and sit with me. I listen with intent to those who talk or stop by but my brain is jumbled. Nothing makes sense because everything about me says to fix it, to change and make it better. To do whatever it would take to make this all a dream.

Throughout the day, I did find time to smile and laugh. AJ and I worked out.  But that would be the time I know you would to stopping by to pick up the cake I baked for Wes. You pulled up and I felt the knot grow in my throat. My stomach turned like a washer on the spin cycle. And you were normal. There was no animosity. There was no hate.  But there was also no love.  You left as quickly as you came, with a see you later out window as a form of gentlemanly conduct. I knew better than to take those words literally.

John called soon after that and the conversation went on for hours. He gets it. He understands. He himself wonders what has happened.  During the conversation, you texted. Nothing personal or resolving, but a pic of Wes and the cake, thanking me. I got off the phone and walked with Karen feeling a little higher, with some form of hope. Dinner followed and then bedtime. I longed to stay asleep. I prayed when I closed my eyes I would find rest.

Letters to him...

Saturday...
I woke up this morning the same way I went to sleep; wet faced and lonely. Looking in the mirror once again the puffy eyes greeted me. The yearning for a hot, caffeinated beverage pulled me out of bed so I could drink enough liquid courage to get me through the day.

I scrolled Facebook, first pausing on my page to see if you had removed our relationship status from our social worlds, leaving me to answer questions I couldn't even get myself. Once establishing nothing had changed in the virtual world I took a deep breath and glanced mindlessly at other things.   Messages come in continuously, checking in and telling me to breathe and let God just take this entire situation and I know they are right, but this situation isn't fair and it isn't right. I am losing a love, one I have poured so much into. One I don't get a say in.

Facebook has this wonderful thing called memories and let me tell you, they suck. A year ago, I was sitting with you and our kids in a boat on your pond. We were smiling. The overwhelming feeling of regret knocked me to the ground and I lost it. So I sit here at the table, stroking these black and white keys searching for answers and trying to make sense of it all.

I think about that night in the boat 365 days ago. Had we argued that day? Had we smiled and joked and had one of our best days?  I can't remember. All I have is this picture. This memory on Facebook that tells me it must have been a good one. And I long to be there in that boat with you right now.

I have heard so many people say hindsight is 20/20. What the hell does that even mean? It's clearer? More crisp?  It's just eye opening to me, that is all.  Apparently I didn't say much that night in the boat. Must have been a night I rolled with the punches or didn't pick up any offense.  I must have been "the girl" you liked that night.  I must have been the better version that day.  The non complicated one. The do what I say one. The don't it let it bother you one.

But that's not me. I am messy and complicated and helping and kind and generous with all I have. I love to a fault. And I hurt.  Lord knows I hurt. 90% of the time, I can be the version you like. But the 10% that I am not is held against me. There is no help, no understanding, no want to get around that 10%. You would rather just toss it all away then help with the 10%.  And it seems so trivial. The things we talk about that end in fights. I do have feelings and emotions and you don't. There is no compromise.  A couple of days ago I did a thing that took a lot of courage. I had to let go of my pride. I took a step in a direction for resolution. And you know what?  It didn't matter to you. Because it wasn't soon enough and you were done. You tossed me and all of our memories aside.  I got written off.  You know that pain. You have experienced it. Feel it with me....

So today I get that Facebook memory. I get to see your smiling face and know that on that day, I made you happy. For a brief moment it blurs out the imagery of your face from a couple of nights ago. It dims the tone of disgust and hate from your voice. It stopped my tears for a couple of seconds.

But now the wave has built back up and I search frantically for another snapshot, to stop this pain and stop this hurt. And I know I won't find one quick enough because the tears have already started. I know you were hurt. I know what you went through. I do. I get that you don't get me.  But we can get through this together.