I think it's time to address something relevant.
Jon-Michael's sister and my very good friend, Karolyn, is getting married this weekend. And I'll be attending her wedding. Our mutual friend, Vania, is having a party in May, which I'm fully expecting J.M. to attend because I don't know why it would happen any other way.
Whether I end up ever holding his hand again or not, one thing is for certain - our lives are forever intertwined. Unless one of us decided to put distance between us and the core group of friends we share, we will inevitably find ourselves in positions of interaction. And if either of us was the kind of person who would be willing to wash their hands of their closest friends over a relationship fiasco, we would never have dated each other to begin with.
It should be said now that as angry as I was, I still stand by his decision. In that moment and the moments leading up to it, he did what he thought was best. And I can't argue with that logic. I still believe if he had actually talked to me, it would never have happened -- better, if he had actually driven to my house like we had planned that night, it definitely wouldn't have happened. But neither of those scenarios change the fact that he thought about it, that he felt in his heart of hearts that dumping me was best for him, for whatever reason. And that may be something I'll never understand. Maybe I have to come to terms with that, and I may never agree with his logic, but the fact that he thought it was best, is all I have to go on.
I stand by everything I wrote here. And I strongly believe all of it needed to be said. And I felt better for saying it. But it comes down to this: as much as I am grateful for the friends I have that apparently are willing to go so far as to inflict physical harm on someone who hurts me, I don't perceive that as necessary. Not in this case, or any that involves Jon-Michael. If it were, I assure everyone, I'd gladly inflict the physical harm myself.
Also, there isn't any area of my life that welcomes trash talking. And as much as some friends may think it makes me feel better to listen to them slam someone I still love, it doesn't. That is entirely a myth. And it should be known now, that I don't want to hear it again. That I will defend him. That I will tell you to stfu. Because as much as you may think you know from reading my blog or consoling me when I'm crying, you don't know anything. And I can say that with the utmost confidence because I know I don't tell anyone everything.
Back to the issue at hand. I didn't stop caring about him. I still haven't. But there's a line to be drawn in the proverbial sand. How many of my wants do I let fall away in order to keep from making waves? And really, how long can that kind of behavior keep a pair truly happy. The answer is not long at all. One cannot be always giving while the other is always taking. So in part, this is my fault too. Although I feel like I was, at times, pulling teeth to get the simplest things.
I don't feel like the way I behaved after that phone call was an overreaction. I feel like if I'd have reacted any differently, he certainly wouldn't get anything resolved within himself; as it stands now, whether he resolves anything or not is unclear to me.
I can be totally honest here and clarify that since the day I met him, I have cared more for his happiness than my own. I am an optimistic enough person to maintain overall happiness, even when things directly related to me are falling apart. It just doesn't take much to make me happy.
Even when it was heart-wrenchingly difficult, knowing this about myself, and knowing the foundations laid in his youth -- things he would someday need to overcome -- helped me eventually get through any rifts between us.
To be objective here, I can't say I've ever known someone who had such an easy time making such an obscene mess of things, yet been so willing and so hopeful to rectify the damages he's done. I wonder how many women HOPE to be loved by a man so afraid of life without her that he sometimes takes severely wrong steps and then fights so hard to repair the damage made.
And I wonder how many wrong steps I should allow him to come back from. And I wonder if the wrong steps I have made are too often overlooked. I am not perfect either.
Jon-Michael's sister and my very good friend, Karolyn, is getting married this weekend. And I'll be attending her wedding. Our mutual friend, Vania, is having a party in May, which I'm fully expecting J.M. to attend because I don't know why it would happen any other way.
Whether I end up ever holding his hand again or not, one thing is for certain - our lives are forever intertwined. Unless one of us decided to put distance between us and the core group of friends we share, we will inevitably find ourselves in positions of interaction. And if either of us was the kind of person who would be willing to wash their hands of their closest friends over a relationship fiasco, we would never have dated each other to begin with.
It should be said now that as angry as I was, I still stand by his decision. In that moment and the moments leading up to it, he did what he thought was best. And I can't argue with that logic. I still believe if he had actually talked to me, it would never have happened -- better, if he had actually driven to my house like we had planned that night, it definitely wouldn't have happened. But neither of those scenarios change the fact that he thought about it, that he felt in his heart of hearts that dumping me was best for him, for whatever reason. And that may be something I'll never understand. Maybe I have to come to terms with that, and I may never agree with his logic, but the fact that he thought it was best, is all I have to go on.
I stand by everything I wrote here. And I strongly believe all of it needed to be said. And I felt better for saying it. But it comes down to this: as much as I am grateful for the friends I have that apparently are willing to go so far as to inflict physical harm on someone who hurts me, I don't perceive that as necessary. Not in this case, or any that involves Jon-Michael. If it were, I assure everyone, I'd gladly inflict the physical harm myself.
Also, there isn't any area of my life that welcomes trash talking. And as much as some friends may think it makes me feel better to listen to them slam someone I still love, it doesn't. That is entirely a myth. And it should be known now, that I don't want to hear it again. That I will defend him. That I will tell you to stfu. Because as much as you may think you know from reading my blog or consoling me when I'm crying, you don't know anything. And I can say that with the utmost confidence because I know I don't tell anyone everything.
Back to the issue at hand. I didn't stop caring about him. I still haven't. But there's a line to be drawn in the proverbial sand. How many of my wants do I let fall away in order to keep from making waves? And really, how long can that kind of behavior keep a pair truly happy. The answer is not long at all. One cannot be always giving while the other is always taking. So in part, this is my fault too. Although I feel like I was, at times, pulling teeth to get the simplest things.
I don't feel like the way I behaved after that phone call was an overreaction. I feel like if I'd have reacted any differently, he certainly wouldn't get anything resolved within himself; as it stands now, whether he resolves anything or not is unclear to me.
I can be totally honest here and clarify that since the day I met him, I have cared more for his happiness than my own. I am an optimistic enough person to maintain overall happiness, even when things directly related to me are falling apart. It just doesn't take much to make me happy.
Even when it was heart-wrenchingly difficult, knowing this about myself, and knowing the foundations laid in his youth -- things he would someday need to overcome -- helped me eventually get through any rifts between us.
To be objective here, I can't say I've ever known someone who had such an easy time making such an obscene mess of things, yet been so willing and so hopeful to rectify the damages he's done. I wonder how many women HOPE to be loved by a man so afraid of life without her that he sometimes takes severely wrong steps and then fights so hard to repair the damage made.
And I wonder how many wrong steps I should allow him to come back from. And I wonder if the wrong steps I have made are too often overlooked. I am not perfect either.
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