What fairytales don’t tell you
I feel like I have to complete a thought. A little while ago I posted about happily ever afters and what they can and should mean to all of us single folk. It was a post full of thoughts for a personal revolution. But, much like anything in life, there are two sides to every story. So today I’d like to post about the flip side of redesigning my own personal happily ever after.
It wasn’t until after my second divorce that my vision of the future changed. Up until then I still assumed there was someone out there for me and I too could ride off into the sunset with him. But when things fall apart so hard, you need something to hold onto. And so I began to think of ways to make a satisfying ending to my story alone.
That’s a positive thing. Taking control of one’s own destiny and happiness. Spitting on fate and making a life you can believe in. Taking control. It’s empowering and good and I stand behind it.
But it’s also tiring. Because for each new dream I have to make and build, an old one is buried underneath it. Each time I make the effort to revise my vision of the future, I first have to dig a grave for the old thoughts of what might be.
Many of you will find this hard to imagine, but I had those dreams of a future with someone else again. I spent my nights imagining the life we’d have and the things we’d do. I tried to picture if we’d have children or not, and if we did what they’d look like and what we’d name them. I mulled over tentative vacation plans. I even considered what kind of engagement ring I’d like if I were to get one again.
And now I have to dig a grave for that life that was becoming so clear in my mind (even though I couldn’t decide between princess cut or marquise). I have to find a way to let it go.
I’m not even angry about that crazy Facebook bitch anymore. I do forgive what happened. I don’t hate LC and I’m not angry at him. But everything that happened just seems to be too much. LC blames himself for letting that happen. He says he’s better than that and I believe him about that. But I also know it wasn’t his fault. I know I put too much stress on our relationship for it to ever be anything but broken. By straddling the line for so long, I am the one who cracked this dream. What he did wasn’t good by any means. And yes, he should have told me what was happening. But that never would have come to be if I had done the right thing in the first place. What happened and this ending are ultimately my fault. And I will have to find a way to live with that.
LC says he can’t imagine me living a life alone. He has lots to say about how intelligent and beautiful and successful I am. How people like me don’t have solitary endings. Even now he says I deserve better than this. That I deserve to be happy.
And maybe I do deserve to be happy. Maybe someday I will be. But I’m afraid that journey is going to have to be on my own. So I will box up the pretty dreams of blonde babies and European vacations. I will add the sounds of the river and pretty diamond rings. I will lay in fun getaways and sun lit strolls by the lake. I will wrap it in the security of having someone hold me every night and tell me how loved I am. It will all be in good company. And I will seal it with the knowledge that I did this thing and made it what it now is. Then I will close that box and bury it deep, hopefully where I can’t pry it open again. Hopefully under the foundations of something new someday.
One of my favorite lines from a song is in Semisonic’s Closing Time: “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” And this is what we don’t often tell people about making new dreams. In order to make way for something new, you have to let go of something else. And sometimes, the beginning you let go of takes a piece of you with it.
Before I shut that dream box, I will add a piece of my heart to it. Another piece that no one else may ever have. It belongs to the river, and the sun, and the vacations, and the babies, and the rings, and that love. It belongs to LC.
Filed under break up, lucky charms | Comments (8)8 Responses to “What fairytales don’t tell you”
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So it’s over? That’s not the ending I expected from all this…probably not you, either.
No. I was thinking of something quite different.
Hugs, Jane. It didn’t seem like it was gonna work, but I know that still doesn’t make it easy when it ends.
I still really wish it had. The future I saw was really nice.
Jane, I do not for a second think that how he acted was your fault, that you pushed him into it! You can not push a person into inappropriate behavior. They choose it themselves and because it is their style under stress.
Remember how you kept wondering why he would put up with your stuff, why he was so nice? Every overly nice person has a flip side. How is that your fault or something you push them into
You’re right, I can’t control how he acts. I take blame because of the situation I created. But he didn’t have to handle it that way.
Beautifully written post that sums up how I feel about life right now in a way I never could. It’s so hard to do, but I understand. I hope that I start learning to better come to terms with the Art of My Aloneness. Thank you for being so honest.
Maybe we can learn together.
I’m sorry that you’ve had to deal with these new negative feelings about LC. Just for the record, he seems like the sweetest guy ever… and maybe he got a little frustrated with the situation and didn’t think it would be a big deal to flirt with someone really far away as a way to deal with his frustrations.
Even so, it’s hurtful.
What happened to Big? Are you still seeing him?
(for the record I’ve been going through a really tough bout of sadness and loneliness similar to yours, except minus the guys…)
If he had told me what was up, it wouldn’t have been a problem. In fact, it probably would have helped him get what he wanted. It’s the lying and the behavior afterwards that I am increasingly not fond of.
I’m sorry Jane, I know this is a tough time for you. I’m sending some large e-hugs your way.
Thanks hon, I appreciate it.
Thank you for saying so eloquently what I’ve been feeling. I’m not ready to give up on love just yet, but I’m determined to get to a point where I can be comfortable with the fact that I might never find it, and have that be OK. It’s always comforting to know that there are others that feel the same way.
I think this is a struggle for more than us than would like to admit it. You’re definitely not alone.
I want to echo what Rinatta said. We’re all responsible for our own actions. Perhaps it’s true that if he hadn’t felt insecure about your relationship at this point in time, he wouldn’t have flirted with Crazy. But what about the next time that something happened to make him doubt the relationship? (And something probably would happen eventually because all relationships go through ups and downs.) In my experience, at least, people who fall back on “cheating” (which I put in quotes because I know it wasn’t technically cheating) when things get rocky will do so again. As painful as it was to end it, I think you were smart to do so.
Since time has passed, I have reached peace with myself on this one. He behaved badly and he hurt me. I behaved badly and I hurt him. The situation was far from ideal and we both messed up. I’ve decided it’s a truce.