17 years

It would have been 17 years today. 17 years. 19, if you count the time we knew each other before we got married.

I don’t know why it’s sitting with me this year – 17 years – when the last two years, this date passed with just a thought of, “oh, it’s our anniversary.” I was kinda glad it was that insignificant. I don’t want this to be an “anniversary” date the rest of my life, although I do occasionally think about my first marriage on that anniversary.

I’m not sure if I really miss him today or if I just miss “us”. Being a couple, having someone in bed with me every night (other than my cat), having someone to bounce ideas off of, someone to hold my hand in the movies, someone to GO to the movies with.

I am overwhelmed with the feeling of loss these past few days. We don’t talk at all because I choose not to. I am so filled with anger when I do see him – anger at him for the way he treated me and how much he added to the wounds of my life; angry at myself for letting him treat me that way, not seeing what was going on, just existing instead of participating in my life. I want to slap him and scream at him and ask him if he really understands the consequences of his actions. Maybe it’s a good thing I don’t talk to him.

17 years. What does it mean? What came of that relationship? How could we have been together so long and not made it? How could we have been together so long and not have a relationship now? And I don’t want to have a relationship because I’m afraid it would go back to being what it was – hard, angry, difficult, negative. I have a finely balanced life right now and I don’t want that life to tip back to the dark, dank place it was on that horrible night I almost took my life. I never want to be there again. But what did all those years mean? Is it just a void in my life now, something I can refer to gingerly, an era I don’t want to acknowledge but can’t avoid acknowledging?

He is still on the fringes of my life and even that pisses me off. He does little things that make me feel like he’s clinging to our relationship yet he’s the one who chose to close the door by filing for divorce before I knew what I wanted.

I guess I still struggle with the fact that, even though I was the one to say I need to be alone for a while, I never thought it would end. I thought we’d separate, I’d figure out where my head was at, get myself straightened out emotionally, we’d stay in counseling, and eventually, we’d get back together, stronger, better, ready to face the rest of our lives together. I know it hurt him when I told him I didn’t want to be with him anymore. And maybe filing for divorce was his only way to regain some control over the situation, make it hurt less somehow. But that simple act ended any relationship we could have had.

Maybe that’s what I’m angry about as well, that the way he handled the end of our relationship was just the same as the way he handled most of our relationship – making it what he wanted, not considering what I wanted. Maybe it’s best we ended that way instead of hanging on, trying to figure out if we were ever going to be together again, having that undefined, disconnected lingering thing that so many couples go through. When my first husband left me, there was that period where I didn’t know what we were – together?, apart? He’d call and want to see me and then call can cancel. We’d have drinks and I’d think we were getting better then I’d hear he was with this girl he left me for. I finally had to put my foot down and stop maintaining any contact with him because it was too hard to be on the edge of something and not know what that something was. I guess that’s how RJ had to be – put his foot down to figure out what the end of our relationship was.

I just know that today, I am struggling to find closure, find perspective, find some reason why it ended and why it couldn’t have been that beautiful future we planned on May 11, 1991. Wondering what I could have done to change the course that ended in June, 2005. There are answers I’ll never know, no matter how much I look at it. And maybe I’ve gained some insight that will carry through into another relationship 100 years from now when my wounds will have healed enough to allow me to let someone else in.

For now, I’ll just try to get through to the 12th and put the 11th behind me, for this year anyway.