“…they pull me back in”.
That’s how I feel about this whole situation. As soon as I make some progress, I end up sucked back into the drama of the situation. The pain of it.
Three days ago I was putting myself to bed every night, getting up in the morning, going to work, talking with my roommates and overall getting through it. I seemed to be accepting my new normal, this new reality. I was getting excited about my future and impossibly, I was getting all my homework in on time. I was getting some clarity. Still, definitely in the ocean, but managing to stay above water a bit better.
When I get the text message, “I need to get my things out of your storage unit on Saturday, when will you be available for me to pick up the key I will return it as well as my key to the house on Saturday”.
Huh. Let’s just pause to react to that for a second:
1. You’re a douche. Pick up the fucking phone and give me a call if you want to talk. Stop hiding behind voiceless text messages like a punk.
2. I must have missed the part where my life is supposed to revolve around you. You don’t make demands, you work around my plans. Got it?
3. Thank God, if you want to be out of my life so badly then please get out. I don’t want your shit lying around, I don’t need the reminder, just take it all.
4. You could be a little nicer you know, you’re lucky I didn’t burn everything that you once touched. Grow up.
5. Why do you always make me sad now?
I can’t help it, the sad always follows the angry. But, right now, I’m trying to cling to the angry.
He went on to attempt talking me into picking the stuff up on his own (you’re kidding right??) and eventually we agreed on today, Saturday at 5:30. Bring on the nerves.
At one point he said: “I don’t want this 2 be any harder than it is, If you think im gonna take ur stuff thats not going 2 happen, I can pick up my stuff thats at the house at the house, I dont get y i cant just go”.
I responded: “Easier for who, Cody?”
He claimed it was for the benefit of both of us, but that’s him being a chicken-shit. Just like how he moved all his stuff out when I wasn’t home, he wanted to do this without me. Because facing me has consequences: guilt. He knows he messed this up. And he doesn’t want to have to look me in the eye. Because he’s weak. Because he’s not a man. Because he hasn’t grown up.
So, I did the only rational thing a girl in this situation could do. I picked out an outfit that made me feel good about myself, arranged a girl’s night in preparation for my meltdown and dreamt of witty one liners to add salt to his wounds.
Unnecessary? Probably. Mature? I guess not. A boost to my confidence? Definitely.
We’ll see how it goes, I hope I can keep up this frosty, indifferent exterior and save my emotions for my girl’s night. Because I don’t need him. And I shouldn’t waste one precious tear on someone who would do the things he has to me. And he deserves this. And I’m in control. And I can do this because I don’t need him. I don’t even think I want him anymore.
He’s pathetic. And I am a strong woman warrior. And this is battle.
Someone remind me? How did I get sucked back in?
Guess it doesn’t really matter.
“He’s a punk.”
That’s my life-raft today.
breakupandbreakthrough 