This afternoon I realized that I am tired. I am sick and tired of the repentance; I am sick and tired of the self-doubt and the self-deprecation and the self-hate. I am sick and tired of the questions and I am sick and tired of feeling as though I have something to prove to anybody who isn't me.
I am kidding myself if I think there is any remnant of love left between me and Sean. In fact, who knows if there ever was? If somebody can't be there for me when I make a mistake, what kind of love is that? If somebody can't be there when I need him, what kind of love is it? If somebody doesn't want me when I am anything less than perfect, it doesn't seem like they ever really wanted me at all. And sitting around pining for something that never was just makes me a fool. Sitting around thinking if I just do this, that, and the other, maybe I'll prove to him that I am worth it - what a waste of my time and energy.
I want more than he can offer me. And that is not my fault and I refuse from here on out to take responsibility for his inability to love somebody properly. I have been so reluctant to begin letting go because I feel like it reflects on me and my devotion, but I don't think that any more. I think that I gave this every chance I possibly could have, and I forgave him everything I wish he could have forgiven me and then some, and I made allowances for things that maybe should have been deal-breakers, and then he couldn't give me the same courtesy - and yet here I am beating myself up while he carries on with his life exactly as he did before, totally unrepentant? Why? Why do I give a shit? Why am I so damn hard on myself and yet I'm pissed off that he's just as hard on me because I know I don't deserve to be judged that harshly?
The question I keep asking myself is, if he came back, what would I do? Up until today, the answer was clearly that I would grovel and demean myself and do everything possible to keep him. Now? I don't think I am willing to do that any more. If he came back, he'd have to be a different man. So, really, how much love was ever really there, if what I wanted and loved was the best that he could be...but he wasn't ever at that level? What if what I loved was just his potential and not who he was? And what if what he loved was just what I was representing myself as, and the minute a crack appeared in the armor, he realized it wasn't really me and that's why he went? What if the blinders have been ripped off both of us? Is there really any recovery from that?
It's just hard. It's hard to go from sharing everything with somebody to sharing nothing, and to be tossed a scrap here and there of what they are doing and how they are feeling, but not to be important enough to warrant more than that. I don't want things to end 100% and I certainly don't want them to end ugly, but I think for my own sanity I might need to break all contact. I'm not there yet, but I am getting closer and closer, and it hurts like hell but I'm beginning to see it's time I start taking better care of myself, because Lord knows I can't count on him to do it.
PS - I didn't blow dry my hair today. Hmph.
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