Catherine

i'm happy again

Where do I even begin with what is new in my life? I broke up with Burt. Several people were surprised, many more were glad it happened. It needed to happen. I'm glad it happened. Really glad it happened. It wasn't triggered by a fight, it was more a series of events, that led to my ultimate decision. I didn't feel loved. Period. He may have finally gotten to the level that I was at, but by that time, it was too late. I was backpedaling realizing that I was the only one feeling that way. So I stopped loving him, it was that simple. People always dramatize and talk about how hard it is to get over someone, I found it easier than expected. The relationship I had with him was the most involved I've ever been in, it was the longest and the one I made the most sacrifices for. I found myself not crying because I was alone at night, but crying because I hurt him and damaged mutual friendships that we have. I went through the "stages" crying, anger, guilt, questioning my decision and whatever else you can feel during that time. I think the anger is what surprised me the most. About a week after it happened he asked if we could talk. This turned into a 2 hour conversation in which he cried, bargained and pleaded. He thought that I was testing him. Afterwards I felt nothing but relief, he said what he needed to say. I gave him reasons, which, he seemed to understand. He left first, in tears, but really there was nothing else to say. My decision was final, I think that there's a reason you break up and that getting back together a week later doesn't solve the problem. I arrived at home with Colleen there to talk to, I was telling her about what was said and started to get angry. I was yelling. I never yell. It felt so good to get everything out there. All the reasons I had for him not loving me, the ways I never felt like I mattered to him, all of it was verbalized. It made me mad. Mad that I had put up with it for so long. Mad that he said (about our fights) "I never thought you were that serious." SERIOUSLY? He knew I wasn't a confrontational person, if I bring something up to fight about clearly it's an issue. Anyway, I got a text from him that my stuff was by my back door. I go to grab the bag and along with my clothes and various other things that had accumulated at his place was the picture I gave him for part of his birthday present (along with a ipod touch, which, i will never get the money back for. bastard.) Something about that gesture of giving back a picture and a frame that I had given him as a gift just really set me off. I went to Colleen in a frenzy and asked where the scissors were. I took that picture (which happened to be the one of us in Barcelona) and scratched out our eyes (like in postsecret) and wrote on it. It was over in maybe 5 minutes, but during that time I was yelling and crying and I even cut my finger with the scissors. I didn't care. It felt so good to get it all out. I'm going to mail it tomorrow. Maybe it will turn up on Frank's website, who knows all I know is that I felt so much better and still do. In other news... I finished "Looking for Alaska" today and it has really inspired some interesting thoughts. More to come.