This Is All Very Strange Indeed…

He is kinder. He is more generous. He is more thoughtful. He has told me he isn’t trying to suck up to me. He has told me that he accepts the situation. He has told me that he is not destitute but sad. He has told me that his main priority is our child. Our child who needs a father and he will bend all the flexibility of his schedule that he would never bend for me for our child.

He is behaving better enough that I keep waiting to be sad. I keep waiting to think, “I don’t need to leave. I can get what I need here. Look how well we share our child. Look how nice he is being.”

And then I think. Could I have those hands on me? Do I want to risk my emotional needs on this man? Could I bear being failed again? So badly. So egregiously. Is my lack-of-love a defence mechanism? Is my lack-of-love real? What will become of me if I follow-through and leave this place?

I often joke to friends about winding up old, alone with a zillion cats waiting for me to sit still long enough to have excuse to eat me. Am I sealing that fate? Am I turning that almost-joke into a destined reality?

I am afraid.

But every time I check in with myself I am not sad. I am merely getting what I wanted.

I’ve never been good at getting what I want. I doubt it. I fear it. I question it.

But this is what I wanted.

I wanted us to be friendly. I wanted us to share our child with openness and joy. I wanted us to let each other go with grace. This is what I wanted and I would do well to keep reminding myself of that fact.

The saying goes that “when the gods want to punish us they answer our prayers.” But I am not being punished and I am getting what I said I wanted. I am fairly certain I am genuinely getting what I want. I just need to let it happen. I need to be better at letting myself get what I want. I need to allow myself to feel deserving of getting the things I want.

I am prepared for – though not happy about – the idea that I might die alone.

I am prepared for – though not happy about – the idea that this all might be a mistake and I will have wreaked havoc for nothing if I want to “come back.”

I am prepared for the possibility that even if I have made a mistake and even if I do realize it and own it and decide to “come back” I may be rejected. Yet again.

The truth is, though. I keep trying to figure out if I am sad and I am not.

I do not want his hands on me. I do not trust him to support me.

I am getting what I want. (I think. I really do have no gift for certainty)

And this is all very strange indeed.