I’m trying not to fill this new incarnation of my blog with whiny personal existential rants, but…
Jenn and I have broken up. It was a very hard thing for me to do, made much harder by the way she handled it, but it had to be done. Things had grown toxic between us. We were both at fault for that; her, unable to control her emotions, exploding at me in tears and anger over every little thing, and me, unable to bear even the slightest hint of conflict, to the point that I anticipated arguments and fights in even the most benign circumstances.
For the past few weeks, as things have gotten worse with her moving home to Annapolis and preparing to move to Kansas, I’ve been increasingly unable to ignore the obvious path this relationship was taking. Once she was in Kansas, and during the weeks immediately preceding her move, the amount of stress and anxiety she’d be feeling would be extremely high, which would lead to more and more fights. The frequency with which she would hit me with guilt trips over not being able to come see her as often as she’d like, while unintentional, would crush me. We’d both be miserable. She’d resent me for not doing more, and I’d resent her for expecting me to do too much. We’d grow to hate each other, and I can’t bear the thought of that.
It became clear to me that if I was going to salvage any relationship at all with her, it had to end before it got to that point. I can’t bear the thought of losing her completely. I still love her very much, but love isn’t the only thing you need to keep a relationship going, especially a long distance one.
Right now, she hates me for doing this to her. She thinks it’s a mistake. I hate myself for causing her this pain, and I sometimes think it would just be easier to take it back and go back to pretending that everything is fine. But I know that will only make things better temporarily. I have to keep reminding myself that this is better in the long run. I have to bear the burden in this, yet again, for making things work. I just wish she could see it…
Perhaps, in a few years, we’ll meet up again, and she’ll have grown up a bit, figured herself out a little, have some clue about the things that make her tick. Perhaps I’ll have grown more patient. Perhaps I’ll develop a desire to have someone be completely dependent on me for their happiness and well-being. Perhaps then we can try again. Right now, though, I can’t even talk to her about our issues without her falling apart and shutting down, and I can’t be in a situation like that. I have to be able to discuss things with the person I am with. It can’t work otherwise.
Between this, the encounters with my grandparents, and things going on at work… this has been a horrible week, and I’m inclined to just avoid human contact as much as possible for the next few days so I can grieve in peace.