My ex is a lovely, friendly, innocuous kind of man. A little off-centre, a little lost in the world. A man of habit and ritual. Of strong convictions and old traditions. An eager relationship builder. A highly moral soul.
In order to ensure the safety and dignity of my ‘recent ex’ I spontaneously found myself denying that I am fine with the split. Am not openly extolling the low-level relief that I am feeling. Except here. Where I am an anonymous rambler in the ether.
I wonder at my compulsion to not be honest in my own world? A natural instinct to continue being the sensitive person I was while we were together or a martyrdom in the face of realisation that many in my world thought him a little odd, and knew the challenge of being with him?
Whatever the reason, the effort has interestingly tapped into a rare feeling of anger. It’s fuelling a sharp tongue-flicking acid-creativity everywhere. Am I denying how much I liked this guy? Perhaps. Is this just an ego response? The charade, the pretence, at actually being affected from the break up is taking an unexpected toll. People think I am grieving. I am not. I am missing, yes. I am sad, a little. But I am not wailing heart-broken. I am being consoled and cautioned, pampered and propped up. And yet need none of this. I am fine.
As friends have pointed out, I spent a vast quantity of time and energy establishing safety nets and self-censorship in order for him to be comfortable, to allow for his insecurities to breathe in our relationship, his overly sensitive quirks and importantly, accommodating his mourning for the loss of his Mother. Now… I know, the complaining of this, something that shld come naturally if you are in love, sounds callous and resentful. Odd. Not two words I wld ever use to describe myself. Hmmm.
Maybe it’s that in the breaking up, he never acknowledged an understanding of how difficult it may have been for me. To facilitate some of his behaviours. I guess that wld have been nice. A little recognition – the last 4 mths have been exhausting and stressful (from learning about and dealing with his insomnia, snoring, depression, his perpetual joblessness, threadbare clothing, hoarding, financial situation, inability to take on new information, the sharing of personal details to random strangers, heightened routine and rituals, and his apocalypse bag that went with him everywhere…). Maybe my anger is due to his belief that I was odd and he was perfectly normal. Again, the perspectives. In social situations with my friends, all suggested there was something discomforting about him, overly friendly but in a ‘slightly off’ way, inappropriate comments rather than funny…
And as the unrequested support is thrown at me unabated, I wonder why I don’t just publicly proclaim “the guy had issues I didnt have the skills to deal with – we are incompatible… but I am fine”?
I need to take the anger out of this. I guess it has been building for weeks.
Hell, I am sure he is fine too. Or will be soon enough. But just in case, keep the secret.