I feel it. I really do. A shift. A peace.
I was supposed to go to the beach with some friends on Wednesday this week but could feel myself buggin out. Almost considering canceling. And then another girlfriend called to see if I wanted to come down a night earlier…..and I went for it. I figured the best thing I could do with myself would be to remove myself from any chance of running into him.
Let me back up a bit and tell you that by Monday it had been 11 days since I had contact with him. And then that night, out of the blue I received a text from him that sai “thinking of you…..” followed by a photo of another Fiat Spider parked in a spot. Direct from Florida.
I immediately thought of how the last time he was going ,I had asked him not to be a stranger and instead received and exasperated reaction from him. Dismissed. He chose ‘stranger’. And I rewarded him by not bringing it up and having sex. I think of how shitty he was to me this last night I was with him…and I repeated to myself the 3 craptastic things he’d done. I could feel him trying to pull me back in. Thinking of you….
So this is where I found myself on Tuesday….the day he would be coming back from this trip….gaslighted (gaslit? Is that the past tense?) by the pretense of an emotion coming from him. Off kilter from this and mixed with knowing I needed to stay away from him. Not likely to happen if I stayed home. Mixed with wanting to stay and not let him be the reason I didn’t give Dayle her birthday gift on her birthday. Not let him one up me that way. One up him instead.
My mind a jumble and wanting to come from a place of rest and smart choices… I decided to go down early. With the blessings of Jack and my husband, I threw some clothing together, tossed it in a bag and hopped in the car headed down to the beach.
I put music on, but could not find the genre on pandora that ‘did’ it for me. How will I golf and not run into him? How can. I go out and not run into him? What about how poorly he treats me…without remorse. A coward. How will I act? What will I say? Do I just go into hiding?
And with about and hour and a half left of my two and a half hour trip….my mind settled. Sensible things started coming through for me.
1. I’m in no hurry to become a golf pro. I just want something to relax to. I’m in competition with no one. That is his disorder, not mine. So what if I don’t go every day? I know when he’s least likely to be there. That’s when I will go…that is if I want to go.
2. I do not need to go out. I find peace on my porch or in getting coffee with a girlfriend .I don’t’ need other people’s attention to thrive. That’s his disorder, not mine. And while I enjoy Dayle, I do not need to be parked at a bar 3 times a week. Lunch suits me fine. So does texting.
3. And on the subject of Dayle, I do not need to give her the gifts I bought her exactly on her birthday. She will not care. I can pop in during the day when I get home. I am the reason Dayle isn’t getting her gifts on time. Me. One upping is his disorder. Not mine.
When I got down to Jill’s on Tuesday, another text arrived. Usual formal, passive aggressive tone asking me if I was still at the beach. Reeling me in by interest in me the day he came home, when last time he couldn’t be bothered paying attention to me for the first day or two. Unreal, right?
I had a great time. I really did. I felt this shift. How being away from him brings me such peace. Clarity. Sensibility. How present I am in my life when he’s not in it.
I came home late Wednesday night, instead of staying another day as I had planned. Smart or stupid, not sure….but it is the choice I made.
I reach Main Street here in town and am about to turn into my development when A red convertible Ferrari pulls out of it. It’s 11:30 pm of Dayle’s birthday night. I think it was him, as I have never seen another of these on the roads here before. This is what I come home to. And I promptly went into my house and to bed….not giving myself even two seconds to stray and betray myself. Can’t say I had an easy time falling asleep, but I can say that I slept straight through to the sound of a garage door closing at 10am.
Tonight, I sat down to write and saw his r8 drive by my house. It was 6:45. He will do what he can to ensure peace does not come to me. And I believe he may have driven by again about and hour ago.
I sit here now at 10pm. I hear a song I have not heard in ages. The Road, by Jackson Browne. And for a few seconds a feeling of my old teenage self shined through. She wasn’t the most confident person, but she was soulful and innocent and trusting. She felt there was ‘more’ out there and she was open to a future of unknown things. She was an ugly duckling with a swan neck. She had grace and self respect. She had passion she had yet realized. She took long drives at night, by herself. I remember her well. She was a delicate flower inside.
I looked at myself in the mirror for the first time in ages. I am well tanned. The bags under my eyes are faint. My hair, pretty. I feel sane. I want to be that flower again… .blooming. Opening up.
His disorder, not mine.