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.