Just a thought I am having:
When I was married for 10 years, I did everything right. At that point I had never yet rebelled or done a single bad thing since I was a kid. I was straight and narrow. I was consistent. Responsible. I didn't drink. I tried zero drugs. I worked full time, was a full time student, and a full time wife. I cooked all his meals. I made sure his tie looked good before interviews. I did too much. So when he spiraled in our last year and blamed me for grief that had nothing to do with me, I endured the new abuse and blame with patience and love for a full year until I finally collapsed from burnout and left him for the first guy who showed interest in me.
Nothing made sense to me at that time because I felt I'd made every smart choice in life, I'd been so thoughtful and good, and yet everything fell apart in the end, despite me giving 110% of my best self.
After that I stopped trying and did the opposite.
10 years later, with R, I had finally perfected the art of putting myself first. I did therapy while we dated. I quit drinking. I did yoga every day and meditated every night. I did everything right -- for myself. Yes, this time maybe it will work, if I just remember to always prioritize myself in a relationship like all the self help books say. I took excellent care of myself, and in the back of my mind I sort of hoped he'd see my effort and be inspired to take care of himself too.
But he didn't. He drank more instead of less. He became belligerent and rude. He put his health at risk, repeatedly. His mental health worsened, he went to ICU five times without me knowing, and then died, without me really knowing how serious his problems were, because he communicated to no one about it.
Therefore, now after trying every possible combination with a wide variety of men, I conclude that it makes zero difference what I do. Whether I prioritize myself or prioritize a relationship, they fail. I can ride a fucking donkey naked every day and eat donuts for breakfast and legos for dinner because up is down and down is up and I may as well be invisible because nothing I do has the power to affect anything other than myself.
I'm better off now than 10 years ago, not having gotten as attached as I know I could have. I distanced myself quicker this time and maintained strict boundaries. When I fled my marriage I binge drank at times and had the worst panic attacks. R's death gave me panic attacks the first 3 days, but since then I've been fine. I experienced no increase in substance use. I find myself consuming way less weed than when I had men around, and I have no urges to binge drink. So keeping my distance and putting myself first at least made the heartbreak easier than before. I never gave him my whole heart. I'll probably never have that level of trust in men again because every time I trust, my trust is betrayed, and I am not Jesus, even though men seem to think I'll die for their sins.
I'd like to get past this jadedness and lack of trust but I can't seem to find an exit, except to accept celibacy and solitude for the rest of my adult life, which seems like the only safe option for me. I am a little mad about it, but then again I remember as a teenager I never really wanted a boyfriend because I felt like I'd probably never find another human who understood me. I wasn't wrong. I still feel as misunderstood now as I did then. I know that no one gets me. And I'm tired of explaining, really.
My best case scenario is to end up like the kinds of women I have always admired anyway, the four-times-divorced old ladies with witty personalities and too-big jewelry, the joyful old women with brightly dyed hair and sharp humor who are found everywhere I want to be. I always wondered why I adored women with multiple divorces under their belt, and I think I know the answer now: They loved themselves enough to leave no matter how many times they had to leave. And no matter how many times men hurt them, they didn't let it make them bad people. They've been to hell and back and survived, funnier and cleverer than before. These women are invincible and not even an army of failed lovers can defeat their spirit. I want to believe that's me, too.
- 2023-01-29