greenstorm (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
greenstorm) wrote2021-12-08 09:11 am
greenstorm) wrote2021-12-08 09:11 am
It's time to move on/it's time to get going
Someone asked me at one point, what would it take for me to continue in this relationship? And the answer is that on some level a connection will continue, but it will probably stop looking much like a relationship; he'll just be one of my people, held at a distance in places it's not safe to hold him close.
I'm starting to see what that will look like.
We never really had a shared daily life. I mean, we did domestic stuff together and we stepped into each other's spheres, so it looked like it from many angles. It never did fully integrate, though. Possibly because we were each other's only in-person community for awhile we didn't evolve a routine where our own lives existed inside the relationship. Ugh. This language feels contradictory and I'm not sure how to untangle it. What I mean is, he wasn't involved in my life and didn't share a ton about his. What we created together was what we had: I told stories from my life but that didn't really bring it into the relationship, and he seldom told stories from his. Our relationship was shaped by my life and by his, but there wasn't a lot of room for, maybe, compersion about each other's lives.
I'm slowly setting down the habits that don't serve me. There's no rush, no push. Just, when something feels heavy and doesn't give me joy or fill a need, I set it down. I'm setting down the need to be the scheduler. I'm setting down the need to work around his schedule, to be accommodating, to figure out what all is going on and fit it together efficiently. I'm setting down pushing myself to tell him about my life, especially in times and places where a welcoming space hasn't been made to listen and the question is rote, is a way of checking off a box. On the phone when we have ten minutes and he wants to get back to his game? Late at night when we're going to sleep? I'm not going to honestly engage with the verbal tic of "how are you?" during those times. It's a little sad because I know he's trying to engage with me, asking that question is something he's worked on. But I'm resentful at being the time-holder, I'm hurt at being cut off when I reveal myself and then time runs short, so I set it down. I set it down, and I walk away, and I'm sad and I can grieve and take a rest from holding things together.
For awhile he'd taken that role and it was lovely: "is it too late to talk about this?" and I could say "yes, thank you". I felt supported. That's-- it's good when we're together. It's not good when we're not. So when we're together we're together, but when we're not? I'm slowly setting things down. I'm masking; I'm mirroring; I'm matching commitment and safety levels.
And the safety levels are: don't expect anything from him. When it happens it's lovely, but he's not reliable. His promises can't be trusted. He confuses "this future thing with you sounds like it might be nice" with "I am going to do this thing with you", says the latter and means the former. And, when I'd like the latter, the hearing the former and knowing it won't happen is particularly hard. I guess it's that same question-- when I know what someone will do but they do not know what they'll do, how do I handle that? Especially when they're likely to be angry and defensive and say, of course that won't happen. I can believe it or not, but when it then does happen I'm especially angry. Better to think of it as a weather forecast than a commitment. Better not to clear my schedule and turn on my phone ringer for something like that.
And maybe he doesn't realize that the skills he's trying to learn can be worked on solo, but when he's in relationship again they'll need to be practiced in relationship. They won't just... come along, whole. What will come along is old habits. So all the things he's doing now he'll go back to doing in relationship, either with me or with someone else, until he deliberately and carefully relearns those skills. I am reasonably sure I don't want to be his practice for that. I think this span here, this last couple months, that's using up the energy I would have brought to that.
He's wanted to be closer recently; to spend more time, to be more snuggly. I'm not sure he realizes how far away I am from where I was, emotionally. It's not a conversation that makes sense to have with him right now. Sadness and distance. Love is so short, forgetting so long.
I'm thinking about how spaces will be filled when he's gone. Will I do my physics course? Will I write more? Will I dance in my livingroom to the breakup playlist and be sad? Will I organize my pantry? Will I look for new jobs and move away? Will I find new plant breeding forums and groom my spreadsheets? Maybe poetry will take me for awhile. I'll pause at the brink of that one, remembering how we almost had the closeness of poetry together, and then sink into it unaccompanied. That will need a few days of solitude to wound and then to heal.
I miss him. I miss the closeness we had that we will only have periodically. I want to lie in bed at night and talk to someone who is interested in what I say, and who reciprocates that sort of intimacy, the closeness of voices in the dark. I've had that with many people and will no doubt have it with many more, him included time to time. I'm lonely for it. It will be good to have Josh here, then to have Christmas with Tucker for a bit. It will be good to make space for other friends. It will be good to have quiet and make space for myself.
What lies ahead I have no way of knowing, Tom Petty says on repeat this whole time. Except I do: uncharted waters, but I know I can steer.
I'm starting to see what that will look like.
We never really had a shared daily life. I mean, we did domestic stuff together and we stepped into each other's spheres, so it looked like it from many angles. It never did fully integrate, though. Possibly because we were each other's only in-person community for awhile we didn't evolve a routine where our own lives existed inside the relationship. Ugh. This language feels contradictory and I'm not sure how to untangle it. What I mean is, he wasn't involved in my life and didn't share a ton about his. What we created together was what we had: I told stories from my life but that didn't really bring it into the relationship, and he seldom told stories from his. Our relationship was shaped by my life and by his, but there wasn't a lot of room for, maybe, compersion about each other's lives.
I'm slowly setting down the habits that don't serve me. There's no rush, no push. Just, when something feels heavy and doesn't give me joy or fill a need, I set it down. I'm setting down the need to be the scheduler. I'm setting down the need to work around his schedule, to be accommodating, to figure out what all is going on and fit it together efficiently. I'm setting down pushing myself to tell him about my life, especially in times and places where a welcoming space hasn't been made to listen and the question is rote, is a way of checking off a box. On the phone when we have ten minutes and he wants to get back to his game? Late at night when we're going to sleep? I'm not going to honestly engage with the verbal tic of "how are you?" during those times. It's a little sad because I know he's trying to engage with me, asking that question is something he's worked on. But I'm resentful at being the time-holder, I'm hurt at being cut off when I reveal myself and then time runs short, so I set it down. I set it down, and I walk away, and I'm sad and I can grieve and take a rest from holding things together.
For awhile he'd taken that role and it was lovely: "is it too late to talk about this?" and I could say "yes, thank you". I felt supported. That's-- it's good when we're together. It's not good when we're not. So when we're together we're together, but when we're not? I'm slowly setting things down. I'm masking; I'm mirroring; I'm matching commitment and safety levels.
And the safety levels are: don't expect anything from him. When it happens it's lovely, but he's not reliable. His promises can't be trusted. He confuses "this future thing with you sounds like it might be nice" with "I am going to do this thing with you", says the latter and means the former. And, when I'd like the latter, the hearing the former and knowing it won't happen is particularly hard. I guess it's that same question-- when I know what someone will do but they do not know what they'll do, how do I handle that? Especially when they're likely to be angry and defensive and say, of course that won't happen. I can believe it or not, but when it then does happen I'm especially angry. Better to think of it as a weather forecast than a commitment. Better not to clear my schedule and turn on my phone ringer for something like that.
And maybe he doesn't realize that the skills he's trying to learn can be worked on solo, but when he's in relationship again they'll need to be practiced in relationship. They won't just... come along, whole. What will come along is old habits. So all the things he's doing now he'll go back to doing in relationship, either with me or with someone else, until he deliberately and carefully relearns those skills. I am reasonably sure I don't want to be his practice for that. I think this span here, this last couple months, that's using up the energy I would have brought to that.
He's wanted to be closer recently; to spend more time, to be more snuggly. I'm not sure he realizes how far away I am from where I was, emotionally. It's not a conversation that makes sense to have with him right now. Sadness and distance. Love is so short, forgetting so long.
I'm thinking about how spaces will be filled when he's gone. Will I do my physics course? Will I write more? Will I dance in my livingroom to the breakup playlist and be sad? Will I organize my pantry? Will I look for new jobs and move away? Will I find new plant breeding forums and groom my spreadsheets? Maybe poetry will take me for awhile. I'll pause at the brink of that one, remembering how we almost had the closeness of poetry together, and then sink into it unaccompanied. That will need a few days of solitude to wound and then to heal.
I miss him. I miss the closeness we had that we will only have periodically. I want to lie in bed at night and talk to someone who is interested in what I say, and who reciprocates that sort of intimacy, the closeness of voices in the dark. I've had that with many people and will no doubt have it with many more, him included time to time. I'm lonely for it. It will be good to have Josh here, then to have Christmas with Tucker for a bit. It will be good to make space for other friends. It will be good to have quiet and make space for myself.
What lies ahead I have no way of knowing, Tom Petty says on repeat this whole time. Except I do: uncharted waters, but I know I can steer.