I cannot believe it has been two years. 2018 seems just a few days away. I remember that conversation like it was yesterday. I felt so small, so weak, so vulnerable. I remember, even at my wits end, wanting to please and make you happy. Why did I do that? I wish I was angrier, more upset, less concerned with how this was impacting you and more concerned with my own well-being. I wasn’t. I was the last thing on my mind. As I sat there and cried, I didn’t think it’d be the last time I’d see you. But, it was. I didn’t see you again. I had taken all my clothes, all my belongings, and left. You didn’t try to come see me. Nor, did you contact me again. The only time you contacted me was a few months later, in September, when you texted me to say that you were getting engaged (I cannot help but, laugh at this situation now because, it’s hilarious to me for some weird reason lol). I remember crying in my office (the huddle room) looking at Confluence Park. Now, I look back and feel a bit of relief at that moment. I cried for many days after that. I have come to accept that I move a bit slow through life. I don’t make haste decisions nor do I rush into things. This is good at times but, at times – it makes things prolong for way too long (like our relationship, for example). So, I didn’t go into an illusion of “okayness” right away. I didn’t lie to myself that I was good. I did rely on some of my vices (working and studying something I have no interest in). I got into “law of attraction” which is frankly overused and oversaid 2 years later. I attempted to pray. After, studying and working and still feeling super lost – I did the most privileged thing someone could do. I booked a trip to Spain, France, and Morocco. The trip was fun but, the most important thing it did for me was that it gave me TIME to think. I wasn’t working 50+ hours a week and trying to learn how to fucking code so, I could actually sit down and think… I thought about a lot of shit apparently cause, I realized how painfully broken I was. How six years with you and whittled me completely. How taking care of you was exhausting. How affirming you for every single insecurity left me completely drained. I ignored these things before. I put you in some sort of an imaginary pedestal that I had created. How can someone I have loved be draining? My ego is the “size of house” like Drake would say that someone I loved had to be a moral standard for a human being. I had also learned to live in your shadows. You always came first. Your work was always more stressful – your ambitions always more important than mine. I was working a full time job, helping my parents, studying part-time for a Masters, and still managing to take care of your physical and emotional needs. I did not deserve that bullshit. I realize that now. And, when I came back from my trip – I must have been on to something because, I seeked for help. I found a therapist and called her crying. I started seeing her every week. Every single week I paid $160 dollars (which was a fucking lot for me). I cried to her, I thought about my feelings for once, I started journaling, I still attempted to pray, and I cried the most I have ever cried. In the midst of this, you called. You called crying because the woman you married wasn’t here. I was still sympathetic – talking to you like you were the victim of the situation. I didn’t take long to realize that you only saw yourself as the victim. You weren’t upset about hurting me but, you just wanted reassurance that I wasn’t hurt for your own sake. You mostly complained about how you were having a hard time dealing with changes in your life. You defended your significant other to me while, talking her down at the same time. It greatly annoys me when a man talks negatively about a woman. Even if she is your wife – I found myself empathizing more with her than you. I didn’t give a damn about how you felt and your presence actually annoyed me. I care about how she would feel knowing she married such a coward of a man. I hoped you learned to treat her properly and I hoped you had grown up so, she wouldn’t have to do the work of reassuring, affirming, and building you up. Maybe not, as you’re older than her – hopefully more mature. Maybe I carried my burdens easily so, you felt good adding on to it without thought or care. You never saw me as an equal which made it easier for you to mistreat me. I understand this now and I don’t feel anger. Although, I don’t think there is anything to forgive – I feel less of a burden now. When you called me, I could have continued to keep in touch – to salvage a type of friendship or relationship (which, at the time, I so longed to do) but, there was no friendship there to begin with. Friendships are not one-way transactions where one person gives and gives and the other takes without regards. Friendships feel good and they re-energize you, they do not leave you depleted. I can be honest about my thoughts about you and my experiences of you now. For so long, I was defensive and wanted the memories to be “good” and wanted to avoid admitting that I got mistreated. It’s not a glorious feeling to admit as a woman but, I think it’s important to be honest to ourselves. We have all given too much to people who didn’t deserve us. We have been hurt, beyond words, by people who didn’t deserve our love. I am good enough to admit that I am hurt. I will probably continue for a bit more (remember, how I do things slowly!). I am getting there though and I know it’ll only get easier from this point forward.