Okay, I swear I’m going to stop going on and on about my love life, but hang in there with me a little longer. The good news is I’m really enjoying writing again, and soon I hope to get back to the funny things I used to write about. But until then…
The kids and I had to stop by the store after school for lunch supplies for the week. Out of habit, I had my phone in my pocket rather than my purse so I can hear and/or feel it if it rings. It screeched out it’s annoying text alert and I tapped it without looking just to shut it up. I finished prying the dozen toys from Tripp’s sticky little death-grip, and feeling frazzled and more than my thirty-two years, I checked my phone. I expected it would be one of the several awesome friends who have been holding me up the last week.
“Barret” it said. My heart froze, except it sped up to a million miles an hour at the same time. How it could simultaneously beat and not beat is beyond my intelligence, but I swear that’s what it felt like. I was absolutely terrified to open the message and yet I was thrilled he had texted me. As my finger moved to the open button, the sound and motion of the kids around me faded into a pale, swirly tunnel. All I could see was the phone and my shaking hand.
I knew it would basically say one of two things. Either, “I’m sorry. Let me explain.” or “I’m sorry. I don’t want to see you anymore.” Theoretically, we had already broken up simply by him not speaking to me for a week. It didn’t really matter who decided it, we weren’t seeing each other. But, you see, I needed that conversation. Not to sound cliche, but I needed the closure. I think these must have been the thoughts in my brain. It was my heart that was contradictory. My heart suddenly burst forth glitter rainbows at the hope that it would be the first option. I knew then, as mad as I am about the recent treatment, I love him. I don’t want it to be over. Not yet. Just a little while longer.
As is typical with Barret, he completely threw me for a loop with that first text. It wasn’t either previously explained option. It said simply, “OMG.” Naturally, I asked, “OMG what?” He said he always get himself into situations and I had some snarky, thinly-veiled, passive-aggressive comeback. He tried some idle chit-chat, and I kept up the snark. His replies became short one or two word texts. I kept on, and when he said I was acting immature, I come out full-aggressive. Angry and accusatory. So he stopped responding at all. I was angry again. I mean, who the hell does he think he is, you know? I hadn’t done anything wrong and he just disappeared and acted like I was NOTHING to him. All because he had some big mysterious problems?? Where did he get off?
When I got the kids to bed, I reread the conversation and thought about my texts more than his. He was trying to be friendly and I was being a complete and total bitch. I checked the time on the first message, and he seems to have texted me pretty much as soon as he got home from work. I know I’m supposed to be all mad about what he did, but I really started to feel bad about how I was handling it. I read further back into the texts from the last week or so, and there were a few that were snotty, to say the least. The night before he stopped talking to me, in particular, stood out. I was mad because we had planned that he would come over Sunday night (for the record, we had just spent the weekend together), and after I fought to get the kids down on time, rushed through cleaning the house and getting ready, he asked me if he could come the next night instead. It would have been better if he had told me that before it was time for him to get here, and I told him so. Rudely.
I texted him again, nicely this time, asking him why did he text me if he didn’t want to talk to me. Since you can’t read intonation, I added that I wasn’t being mean or bitchy, just asking. And I think I hit the nail on the head. He texted me back that I take things out on him. I apologized for that, told him I’m just so confused and upset, but I didn’t hear back from him.
Now that I know this, I can think about it. And in thinking about it, I can accept responsibility for my part in this. I’m not saying what he did was okay, because it’s not. Not by a very long shot. But what I’ve done wasn’t okay, either. Also, not by a long shot. I just wish he had told me. That he had talked to me instead of shutting me out so I could try to address my part of it. Not only to him, but mostly to myself.
It’s no excuse, but the depression has been trying to come back the last four or six weeks. I’ve been aware of it for a couple of weeks, but it’s not an over-night fix. When the chemicals get low, it takes time to build them back up. In my borderline depression, I’ve been overly… Everything. Overly sensitive, over analyzing everything he says and does or doesn’t do, overly aggressive or overly quiet. I think that led me to being snappish with him. Considering the things I know he’s been going through the last month, it’s no wonder we’re where we are today.
I have no idea what will happen now. I hope we can work it out. I hope,together, we haven’t managed to ruin this wonderful thing we had. I… Hope. And that’s not a bad thing.