So.

I dated you for a year and half. And I see and experience these bursts of anger in you, some irrational accusations of cheating, calling me out for selfishness, choosing friends over you. With all of these accusations and anger, I recognized when you are going to blow up. I know what triggers it. I see the signs now.

So, I begin to evade people. I evade certain subjects with you. I hide my feelings a little more each day. I'm more protective of information that may lead to this emotion in you. I don't want to make waves or trigger any kind of anger. Because it was unpredictable, scary at times, damaging to me and our relationship. It often leads to us breaking up, in a hurtful way. I'll cry....everywhere imaginable. I discover things on your phone during this time. I see you still talk to certain women. Why stay in touch? Also, why stay in touch while I'm out of town? And why stay in touch when you know that it makes me uncomfortable and uneasy. I've voiced this. Even you have voiced this.

Despite these little explosions and continued relationships with women that you need to let go of, I moved in with you. I accepted the risk, truly believing that this could be good for us. I was rooting for this to work, banking on it, leading us into living together. I arranged everything. I accepted my responsibility, my piece of the argument, my defensiveness or accusations. I've never been a good fighter. But you're a pro. It's almost impressive how I can be led into it.

We move into the perfect place for us. I thought that this move-in would erase our past failures. I really thought it would heal us, be the emulsifier to our arguments. There would be no reason to not trust someone who you see all the time. No ways to lie to the face you see everyday.

However, it was a stressful summer. You had a lot of family problems, legal problems, personal problems. I somehow became the target of your anger again and again. I became your enemy. My mistakes greatly impacted you, and you totally believed that I would intentionally hurt you. It was almost every two weeks that we fought. Once we would rebuild a bit, then everything would get torn down by one of my genuine mistakes. I would pick my friends over you. Hide things from you. I locked you out of the house accidentally. Not invite you to a friend's birthday party. Leave you at the Nail. I told you a crazy story where I took a boob picture with my friends while on vacation, and that little story that I shared with you on a Saturday morning...became one of our biggest fights. I moved out for a week. I paid you $1000 to find somewhere else to live, but you didn't leave. For the first time in my entire life, I didn't want to go home. I was trapped in a lease when I thought I was protecting myself by having my name on everything. I didn't have a home because the person that's supposed to love me--only had the most terrible things to say to me or about me. I was called a lesbian, a stupid bitch, a cheater. I was publicly embarrassed while I played volleyball on two occasions. This was in June. We had lived together only four months.

I won't even get into the woman that he invited over to our house while I was out of town. I won't mention the women that he's asked for sexy pictures or snaps from. Those are just the ones that I have knowledge of.

I've been called a lot of terrible things...inexcusable things. I missed a flight, and I was accused of cheating. My volleyball games ran long, so I was accused of cheating. He remarked that I was dressing up more for work, wearing perfume and jewelry, therefore I'm trying to impress someone that I work with. When actually I was trying to impress him...because he'd stop calling me beautiful or cute or pretty a long time ago...

He's broken my phone, shattering the screen. He's broken pottery. He's turned over furniture. He's opened all of the doors wide open and left with no one home. He's thrown water on me while I tried to go to sleep. He's threatened to cheat on me, break the lease, move out, break up with me...more times than I can count. It's insanity. I'm finally doing this and getting out.

I feel like my heart has just...died. Is it possible for a heart to morph into a brick? To try and try and fail. Try and then fail. It's almost impossible to keep the faith in love alive. How do others do it? It seems like the hardest, most difficult thing in the world to me- to love someone. Truly love them all that they are, without wanting or hoping for change- but I guess there has to be a complementary element to it.

Brad and I complemented at one time until we didn't anymore. The relationship changed. And then my heart became a cold stone in my chest that sits so heavily. I went through a lot- we both did. I placed faith in our relationship, that we could withstand our own weaknesses and come out on top and stronger. But there has to be a will to do that. There has to be fight to do that. I used to fight for my relationships, and I fought hard, like "I'm NOT giving up, this is too special, too important to me..." With all of my boyfriends, really. I tried hard up until the very end. Until I lost my faith in that person and in us.

Brad (II) still wanted to try, still saw me as a special, most important person- enough to risk it all again. But I still had a lot of fear, a lot of uncertainties. I didn't know anymore if I wanted to keep fighting. Because what kind of future am I fighting for now? A manipulative, violent one? A large part of me stopped believing in him, that he would stay changed, stay better. I didn't believe the peace would last. Even when a small storm would hit, I jumped overboard to save myself- even if it meant swimming on my own. I felt like prey when we fight. I feared our fights. I've never experienced actual fear with anyone. No bullies, no abusive relative, no one. Before it would even happen, my body would tense, and I'd immediately want to just cry right there. I've lost my will, I've lost my fight. Doesn't feel like me.

to find out

Maybe he wanted her to believe that he was a good person and worth being with or fighting for, but he couldn't make it real. He couldn't will himself into being a real man because it's so far from who he was. It took too much to own up to mistakes. Even big mistakes. Even lies. He may have to admit that perhaps he was a bad person. If he admitted that he was wrong or that he lied or did something fucked-up, he would have to take responsibility for himself. And that requires being a man, being a grown up, being held accountable to a person, to a commitment, to an idea that you both want to make a reality. He makes an impulsive, stupid decision out of anger, drunkenness, or a "fuck it" attitude. He carries it out, satisfying his retaliatory side, feeling vindicated, victorious, and in control. Then, only once he's out of his anger with a renewed perspective and a desire for reconciliation, he's ready to regain that idea and get her back in his life. He covers up the bad deed by quickly pressing "delete." And it's gone. And he's instantly good again. And she doesn't have to know. She doesn't need to know. It wasn't important to him, she doesn't need to know anything.

This was my first complete weekend alone, with no contact whatsoever. No phone calls, texts, snaps, random appearances, or e-mails. It was weird. Lonely. Sad. I drove to his old house, where he lived when we first starting dating and things were good between us. When we had longer stretches of peace. When our plans had a real and reliable future. I keep trying to piece together the puzzle of what happened and I have no answers and it kills me.

I recall being so excited to pull into that driveway to see him. I remember all the breakfasts. I remember his family and feeling so welcomed and such warmth. I remember our fancy first Valentine's Day. I remember our first anniversary.  In our second year, we didn't really celebrate those because we were fighting. It started feeling ridiculous and false to celebrate a 2nd year anniversary when we had broken up so many times.

I still have his toothbrush in the stand, like it's waiting for him to return. And I kinda want to start using it? I know that's weird. It's like a tiny part of him that I can still have and keep to myself. I don't know what I'm saying.

Postcard #3: Val Day

Part of incorporating these postcards into my weekly routine, I also wanted to engage in some writing practice, regarding this project.

Valentine's Day is such a weighty holiday, it's almost as catastrophically wonderful or terrible as NYE, but way worse. Since on NYE, you can choose to stay in that night. Valentine's Day is all around, commercially- INYOURFACE, with aisles dedicated to the color pink, stuffed animals, chocolate candies, and big-ass hearts.

This Val Day, I'm focusing on the path to self-love. Lately, I've been casting a lot of doubts upon myself, leading me to ask questions regarding my relationships, my friendship, my family, career, and how I choose to spend my down time. Generally, I'm happy and satisfied with my life, but how can I take it up a notch? I feel such fear of neutrality, compliance, domesticity. Deep down, I fear boredom. I fear being boring, not mattering, just background noise to a bigger, more interesting movie that's playing at the forefront.

BUT. How exhausting is it to feel the need to entertain someone? How sad for me to feel like me, in my down time, my neutral moments, cannot possible be lovable or cherished? Doesn't everyone need to recharge and rest? I would like to become more relaxed in the silences, in the moments of boredom, and lean into the domestic tranquility of boredom. And learn to breathe it in and discover the love in the boredom. The moments when he's sleeping in my lap. Ordering pizza. And then watching a flash flood wash through your neighborhood streets.

I watched the Mr. Roger's documentary, and he was so accepting of silence. So, comfortable with listening and appreciating everyone for exactly who they are, in that moment. He appreciated the boredom, but loved the world for it. He moved slow, talked slow, got himself comfortable.  I have to learn to appreciate both the boredom and the flash floods, as equally important phenomena in this beautiful life, where there is always the space to learn more, become greater without having to perform a show or discover a new element.

Christmas 2018

Trust. Being trusted and giving trust. Receiving and Believing. Without trust, without respect, is it a relationship? If not a relationship, then what is it? Two people wallowing around, confused, non-directional. Two targets spinning around in a circle, with two positive magnets that repel each other?

I went to church for the first time in probably...two years...it felt so, so good. I took communion and cried in my heads, apologizing for neglecting my most important relationship for two years. A relationship with God, yes. But also, a relationship with myself. And because I'm tied to someone who requires so much, and I loved feeling loved, feeling needed, being called, being consumed by someone. However, over time, I've lost who I am, spiritually, professionally, socially...

I tried to explain this to him last night. How I was once a strong person. How...I was a good person. But in my efforts to be a partner, a girlfriend, a best friend, while prioritizing my Person above everything...not only did I lose myself, it still wasn't enough. It was never enough. It never will be enough. He will never wholly trust and I've never wholly prove myself to him as good enough for his love.

He said that he wanted to marry me, but how can you marry someone who you don't respect. Someone that you call a stupid bitch or a fucking cunt or.....literally any other combination of hurtful, untrue, horrible words that were meant to cut me open.

I'm trying to stay strong because I know in my heart that I can't stay in this relationship. I told him, "I'm nervous with you all the time." It's ingrained in me now to jump as high as I am commanded. But it's never high enough- despite my years of diligence, forgiveness, love, and time. It's never going to be enough.

As I listen to Ariana Grande croon about her newest love affair, engagement, and the sweetness of new love, I ponder yet another ending of mine. It's very unlike any of my past breakups that felt like an event, a catastrophe, you know, filled with confusion and old memories that tug at my cracked-up heart.

This one, is not sudden, not clean, and it feels so necessary for my personal health and entire life. This relationship was being pushed, shoved, forward and onward by our individual hopes. I so badly want to have that beautiful stability and security and sense of family that's forever and long-lasting and it felt so close, finally. We were living together. I've always wanted to live with a boyfriend. It always seemed so grown-up, so practical and modern and cool. Living Together was practically a marriage, but younger and just one piece of paper away! I was almost married. We were a true we. If I went somewhere, the inevitable question was, "where's brad?" Because I'm tied so closely, so intrinsically connected, it's assumed that I know everything about him, including where he is at all times. His companionship was assumed and he was tied to me.

Now, as we attempt to disconnect, I'm alone for the first time in two years. I'm alone in my decisions, my future, career, finances,...what do I want? For now, I just want to be disentangled from something that I've stopped believing in. He was infuriated that I wasn't speaking, just staring at him, as he impassioned his diatribe about whatever, us? him? my faults? if I've ever cared about him?....I had nothing to say, which is odd for me. I've usually fought for us, him, or at least for myself. Now, I just don't care. I feel exhausted with the weekly wrestling with this relationship that I continually fuck up. It's like every month a new fault is discovered about me that sparks another awful break-up, where I'm left crying in my car, in his car, in my cubicle, in bathrooms, everywhere. We've been through this, through all the heartaches, the negotiations, the splitting of assets and family members- I've been hurt so. many. times. by this man. I told my friend Angie, that I've been broken up with MORE TIMES in this relationship- than ALL OF MY PAST RELATIONSHIPS COMBINED. And why? For this stupid hope for a future, because everything was more fun with him, because he made me laugh all the time, because I finally had a team mate in this fucking world? It makes me very to sad to think that this is my love story. Our love story that rusted and tarnished, died like tiny fly on the windowsill. We completely fucked it up.  It's gotten so bad that I'm willing to lose all of that, empty out all the love and fun and partnership, lose my super cool *living with my lover* situation- but only by completely emptying out, can I refill my life.