A Lesson In Self-Loathing

It's scary to see that something you've had is balancing perilously on the fence between the most real, wonderful thing you've ever had and one of the most superficial.
It seems like the two can't co-exist, but then can.

Worse, they do.

Jitterbug is a beautiful human being who cares about me and has been very good to me. He would be perfect for me in so many ways.

Yet, we do this dance where neither of us are willing to open up too much to the other, and so, I suppose, he probably doesn't feel heard any more than I do. I see it in his eyes in pictures just how much he cares, and there were moments I felt it like a surge of electricity in the way he treated me, the way things were when we were out together. Yet, overall, I feel left out, discarded and, well, not as loved as I want to. No, my friends, this simply cannot work. Last I heard, he would be in the states sometime soon, and would come see me. I don't believe it, now, though. Realizing that he was pushing me away as I was pushing him away, well, I don't see how this can turn around now. I don't know that I am prepared for it to.

I suppose this is all part of this growing up process I seem to be terminally caught in, but it's hard to accept that letting go of someone is a step forward. It took me so long to let my mother go, though she doesn't want nor feel that she needs help, and it's taken me ages to figure out I needed to let go of toxic friends and exes.

One former friend repeatedly demands I forgive her for her past actions, then denies they ever happened, then demands I forgive her some more. I've explained to her a few times now that I have forgiven her, but forgiveness does not mean allowing someone a second chance to hurt me. She apparently disagrees. I couldn't live with a heart full of hate, and Lord knows I've seen enough bad days that I could have made that choice, too.

I remember, vividly, growing up, hearing my mother gripe about her mother griping about only receiving one small present one Christmas day during the Great Depression. The irony of my mother's bitterness about her mother's bitterness was not lost on me, even at a young age. I heard this story many times throughout my childhood, and perhaps that is why I chose to forgive.

I had a friend who absolutely could not understand my lack of hatred for either of the men who raped me. I would not wish any harm on them, truly, unless it is God's will, and it is to help these men find light where there has only been darkness. I doubt I will ever understand what it is that makes someone live in such a darkness that they feel the need to inflict it upon others, but that is not for me to understand. My job, as a Baha'i, as a woman, as a Soldier and as a Survivor, is to pray for them and trust that God will work out the details. To use an Army phrase- that's above my pay grade!

Here I sit, at 230 in the morning, contemplating all manner of things, not least of all the loneliness that has been eating at my heart these last few days.

After realizing how much easier (and more painful, but less productive) running back to an ex would be than trying to move on with my life, I sent my ex-fiance a long-ish email explaining my feelings and my pain on this subject. His response was a post on my facebook page. "You're it" followed by "Don't take life so seriously." -sigh- Thank you for proving to me I made the right decision, Danger. I may love you dearly, but there's some things you simply will never understand about me, and those are the things I need most to have someone understand.

So, here I am, in my self-imposed loneliness, praying I'm making the right decisions and not further endangering my future- or what little sanity I might be able to scrape together.