I Can’t Tell

I can’t tell relief from regret.
I can’t tell pity from affection.
I can’t tell the real from the surreal.

I have ended a 12 year relationship. I have devastated a man I have loved and who has loved and devastated me. I feel liberated. I feel surges of kindness born of this liberation.

Suddenly.
Set Free.
I have more to give and even he can benefit.

But then I worry. How cruel is that? Kind to him after kicking him to the curb? But isn’t that all that’s left when the other shoe falls? Kindness? I mean, if it isn’t where you started, shouldn’t it at least be where you wind up?

And then I worry. Is it kindness born of freedom? Is it kindness born of newfound hope? Or – do I care more than I thought and so am being drawn back in?

I don’t want to be drawn back in. I don’t want this. I don’t really want him.

But –

Leaving this is daunting. Huge. Enormous. Momentous. In many ways unbearable.

I keep telling myself I am not a cruel person. I keep telling myself I am a good person pushed over the edge. I need to clamour back and I have made the first real move. I had one pinky clinging to the edge for a while there. For too long. Hanging on with too little for too long. But — everything is so huge that I cannot tell.

I cannot tell whether I am full of relief or regret.
I cannot tell whether I’m full of pity or affection.
I cannot tell what’s real.
What is surreal.