Ch-ch-ch-ch-chaaaaanges...

19 years of crushing.  5 years of electronic contact.  5 years together.  This fellow I thought I'd spend the rest of my days with.  This fellow who has a huge mooshy heart...  who served his country for 20 years...  who marked every special ocassion or date large or small with no less than a sentimental card and, more often, with extravagant, extraordinarily thoughtful gifts...  who believed in truth and honesty...  who got misty eyed at the sweetest things...  this fellow I had my first experience with and who I thought I'd have my last experience with...

This fellow changed...  career issues, life issues, money issues...  depression...  the mooshy heart became angry and bitter...  the 20 years of service became the albatross around his neck...  special ocassions became things marked by distant humorous cards at times and a few times were forgotten all together...  this fellow I had my first experience with and would clearly not have my last experience with...

The grass looked greener to him, I think...  through counseling I'd 'learned to fight'...  which simply means I learned not to be a screamer and learned how to listen...  how to try to disengage if things got heated...  how to keep nastiness in check since I've never learned how to put the toothpaste back in the tube...  but this fellow hadn't learned how to fight...  he hadn't learned not to use his career command voice...  he hadn't learned how to listen or disengage or, the worst, how to keep the nastiness in check...  and the more heated things became, the nastier it would get...  and the grass looked greener to him...

I used to say "How can you say such bile-laden, hateful, nasty things to someone you say you love?"  I never got an answer, really...  not that I guess I expected one...  and I kept right at it...  through the nastiness that even eventually turned to my 'fighting method'...  "Just because yoooou've learned how to fight...", "Just because yoooou know what to say in a fight to wiiiin...".  Um.  No.  It's not a game and it's SO totally not about winning.  Which, I suppose, was our failure to rise to the same level and, alternately, if I'm honest with myself, is probably why I never should have stayed so long at the dance; he wanted to win, I wanted to be better together.

Better together...  I always thought eventually, with enough support and love from me, he would reach a point that he was ready to do something about all the problems and issues he felt were holding him back...  and when that day came, I'd stand behind him and support him and work like a mule to help him...  what I didn't understand was that a gargantuan wad of insecurity clogged his every thought that there was no way up, over or around that mountain...  he was smart and funny and quick...  he thought I was smarter and funnier and quicker...  I won't even go into other things he felt inferior in general about...  and it didn't matter how many times or how loudly I proclaimed that he was funny and quick and smart, it wasn't enough.  That was MY failing; not understanding that I could never support him enough because he doubted himself so deeply.

Better apart...  we broke up the first time and my universe was shattered...  I cried for weeks, spent weekends on the couch sobbing...  couldn't eat, couldn't sleep...  every love song made me sad and angry and sent me weeping...  I felt so lonely I ached and I thought I might never recover...  I'd NEVER had this reaction (let's remember 3 marriages here!)...  for about 5 months I'd see him once a week or so, get a text every other day or so...  and that's what worked for him.  Yes, I was desperately unhappy with the way things were before the breakup, but it was the death of a dream and that's damned hard to bear...  so even though I wasn't crazy about the way it was going after the breakup, at least his presence made it easier to get through.

I mourned and dealt and then I started dating.  It didn't go well.  After a couple of weeks he 'got wind' and went screeching howler monkey, making it painfully and loudly clear that he didn't want any other dogs pissing on his tree and then labeling me as all but a 'cheating whore'...  so I went back...  he must love me to react like that, right?  Only things were no different.  I saw him once or twice a week, text every day or so...  and then two and a half months later I went on an annual girls trip over the weekend of my birthday.

The night we returned, the day after my birthday, I hadn't seen him in a week.  I'd texted him to tell him I was bringing his favorite - fresh scallops and lump crab - back and we could have dinner.  "Breaking Bad comes on at 8:30 and I can't miss that." was the reply.  Um.  ::blinkblink::  Whaaaaa'?  ::ahem::  Ok.  A few more sporadic texts arranged we'd have dinner together when I got home.  The day after my birthday, I hadn't seen him in a week.  He wasn't living at my place any more but he still had a key.  I decided that he was just fooling me.  When I came up the street his truck would really be parked in front of my place and he'd be inside with a card, maybe some flowers, candles...  guess what?  It wasn't.  No truck, apartment dark.  Hmmh.  The day after my birthday, I hadn't seen him in a week.  "I knoooow, he's parked around the corner and is inside waiting for me to get in and he'll jump out and grab me and hug me and wish me happy birthday and tell me how happy he is to see me like he did in the beginning..."...  guess what?  Nope.  I carried all my bags up, dropped them in the floor and proceeded to crawl directly into bed and weep.  I gave it a week, didn't say much of anything about being so utterly crushed.  He was having a hard time after all and maybe he meant to make it up to me the following weekend with a quiet dinner at home and some time together.  Long about Thursday that week, I texted to ask if we had plans.  No plans, why would we have plans?  I don't know, maybe since I didn't see you last weekend, or when I got back the day after my birthday?  "I need you to just bear with me, I'm having a hard time at work."

My turn.  Screeching howler monkey.  "I'm DONE with bearing!  I've borne with you for FIVE F*CKING YEARS!  I've borne with you through EVERYthing!  I've borne and borne and borne until I'm SICK of f*cking BEARING!  I'm DONE bearing!"  No response.  For a week, no response.  I call the next Saturday.  Maybe we should just break up for good, he says.  Yup.  Maybe we should.  Better apart.  Than we ever were together because you just wouldn't try to help yourself.

A MONTH later, I find out he apparently thought the grass was greener in another pasture and had been hiding it.  That he'd hooked up with an old neighborhood friend a few weeks before my birthday when he broke it off the second time.  That he wasn't truthful and honest.  That he'd've let things go on for who knows how long.  That this misty eyed fellow with the huge, mooshy heart was just as damaged and black inside as anyone I've known.  Two weeks after that, this fellow I used to know asks if he can bring 'her' to my/our church.  I broke inside then.  It was all gone. 

Ch-ch-ch-ch-chaaaaanges... 

It's been nine months...  I've healed, I've moved on in my mind and in my heart...  and I've tried to do a little introspection...  I know from my counseling no one can do anything I don't let them do...  why the hell did I let him do that to me for four and a half years too long...?  The death of the dream is the only answer I have.  If you've been crazy about someone since you were 15, it's a dream.  And when it comes true, who the hell wants to let go of that? 

He sent me a messsage the other day...  "You spoiled me with knowing how to fight...".  Saaa-WEET!  Seems maybe the grass wasn't any greener and maybe he should've quit worrying about winning and concentrated on being better together.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-chaaaaanges... 

I love him and wish him every happiness and good thing...  the best of all possible things in the best of all possible worlds...  and with my changes, I realize I not only want to, but have let go.