Since I broke up with him, it’s been tough. Amicable, but tough. Maybe I’m too kind, maybe I’m a fool (maybe it’s the fact that I adore his son and don’t want him to experience the struggles I did) but whatever it is, I’ve let him stay and find a place as soon as he can, but he must be out in 6 weeks time.
Now, to say that it’s been a breeze would be a half-truth.
I am not a fan of conflict. I might be a fighter/warrior, always one to put myself forward in the line of fire to protect those who can’t protect themselves….but all I strive for is a fun happy life. Especially at home.
For many of us, home is our safe space. Our cave of wonder, our reset station, our place of solace and reflection. But I ask you this. What do you do when that space is invaded by someone else? Someone you had no choice but to trust when they moved in. Someone you loved and that love blinded you to the hundreds of red flags you observed before they moved in, and turned a blind eye to as they lived with you?
You go further into yourself, that’s what.
Or at least that’s what happened to me in the later months of our relationship and even more so now that I decided enough was enough and broke up with him.
Due to things going woefully south 6 months before the inevitable, breaking up with him was easy. Even with his psychedelic healing adventures, his core entitled personality is in check.
If reading/studying behavioural psychology and having highly educated and experienced friends/mentors and tutors in the spectrum of psychology, philosophy and science has taught me anything, it’s that our core running (life tapes) are so hard wired into our being, even with plant medicines and therapy we must want to change our core programming from WITHIN and be willing to work on that for the rest of our lives if needs be.
As a stickler for patterns and an avid observer of human behaviour – with a nicely tinted ADHD brain – over our 17-month relationship I have watched him take up new ideas and habits, only to drop them anywhere from 10 days to 3 months later. When asked why he stopped? A shrug and a laugh that it wasn’t really that important.
That kinda stings, when that habit or action was in relation to our relationship and one seemingly simple request to help out be reduced to a shrug.
But I digress.
Over the last two weeks, he’s been complaining at regular intervals that he no longer has access to the “warm and loving” version of me. I remind him repeatedly that I am no longer his girlfriend and his privileges to that part of me have been revoked. His behaviour whilst I was (and still) grieving my mother’s suicide was beyond reprehensible. My heart has only ever been wounded as deeply once before, putting it back into a safer place to heal was tough. All I want is to want someone who wants me back. So to lose that wasn’t pleasant. But necessary.
Still, we are now housemates. Admittedly intimate ones in that we share a bed in my flat, still eat meals together on occasion and have idle chit-chat. But he’s not happy with how I no longer hug him or kiss him or tell him I love him.
Again, I’m not your girlfriend.
I also find it odd that he claims I should be a friend according to what he deems acceptable. But I have never seen him hug and kiss his guy or girl-friends and say “I love you”. He doesn’t understand this – and I’m OK with that. It never was and never will be my duty to get him to understand that which he doesn’t care for.
And that’s what brings us to Jocko’s video I watched this morning.
One thing that gently hit me in the gut was:
Jocko: Listen, she wasn’t! That is a lie. That person that you put together in your head; that you’ve assembled in your mind? That person doesn’t exist! They don’t exist! The person you dealt with was a liar. Was unfaithful. Was a cheater. That’s the person. That person wasn’t this person you’re putting forth in your mind. THAT PERSON DOESN’T EXIST. So stop!
Echo: “-B-but you don’t understand the good times…”
Bar, maybe one relationship in my entire backlog of relationships, I’ve looked at each person who actually was interested in me and pieced together a version of them I was interested in. Only to grow tired of this futile optimism around 6 months later when reality strikes hot.
Why this time it took 16-months? The dynamics were different. There was evidence of change, the charm offensive was strong and the progress was promising but ultimately my Disney-filter faltered once again.
I hope this isn’t reading as a hugely vilifying piece, nor projecting some kind of “woe is me” vibe.
The relationship was enjoyable. I learned a lot about myself, and I’m sure he learned a lot about himself too. We both have a LOT of work to do, but it’s evident our character-sets were doomed from the get go. I’m grateful for the lessons I’ve learned and found I know more about what and who I want to be with, and what I will not tolerate as a result. And that’s a good thing.
I feel like another chapter is about to start…maybe this is the juicy bit after a bit of a lull from my somewhat heady 20’s.
But I’m here for it.