4 years and here we are

It’s been four years of Ryan and I.

Four years of insane ups and downs, the most I’ve ever had in a relationship. The most tumultuous relationship yet also the most kind, compassionate and loving one. At least that is my experience; I think he would say something far different.

I feel immensely heavy today, so heavy that it is hard to breathe. The idea of us not being together, of not being able to love him and feel his love, is crushing. That is exactly how my chest feels, like it’s being crushed. I suppose this is the first part of grief, the disbelief, the astonishment that this is happening, the loss of grounding because the future you thought you had is no longer there.

I have spent a lot of time thinking that we wouldn’t be together in the short term future, but never did I imagine we wouldn’t be together forever. It is a weird split. I just assumed because we are so in love and so obviously meant to be together, that even if we were apart for a period of time in order for my life with my kids to be easier (read: Tom) that we would find our way back together.

He told me he has been talking to a woman since January on and off, nothing serious and nothing lovey, but she wants to know if he can commit to trying a relationship in a month when she returns from Europe. That has really sunk me. She has no kids, she’d be available all of the time, she’d happily move into his beautiful house, and he would take her, even if she wasn’t a tenth of what I am to him or how much he loves me. He will settle with someone who is obviously not exactly right for him just because it is someone who can offer him consistency and stability and partnership. Things I have never been able to give him and the partnership bit is the thing that remains as something I am not able to give him.

How can we be a true partnership if we don’t live together, not only don’t live together but live 15 minutes apart. That kind of impracticality just makes life complicated, especially when we have two kids of our own who need our attention.

If his kids were just normal, like Tom’s are, it would have worked. We could have migrated families, I would have enjoyed the sibling-ish relationship the kids would have. But they aren’t. One doesn’t talk to other people so my kids would be living with someone who never speaks to them, and the other has expressed disdain and annoyance so much with my kids that I don’t feel that it’s a good thing for them either. Kids their age should adore little kids, or at least have the patience and energy to talk to them and engage with them and play with them from time to time. But no, it’s the opposite. Resentment from one and total avoidance from the other. How is that a household that I’d want to merge, how can I feel hope that would change over time? I suppose anything is possible but that feels like a lot to get over.

So that leaves us with living apart and with that comes a sense of separateness. Separateness that threatens him so much that he’d rather not be with me at all. Even if for the next little while, maybe a year, maybe months, we slept together once a week but saw each other everyday by working at the same office, just the two of us, and had some nights where we saw each other with kids, that isn’t enough for him. He is too triggered by it, too triggered by not being “important” to me.

The other night, the night that lead to this whole real breakup was because I had the night off but Charlie wound up wanting to sleep with me. And it just triggered him and I could tell. And he tried to convince me of how this wasn’t healthy for him, not fair to Tom, etc., and it was so transparent. He was just triggered for what it meant to him. And it was so unattractive to have my partner annoyed that my child is attached to me. He can say he objectively has no issue with it and that he of course supports it, but he actually doesn’t.

Over the years I was never able to fully embrace him. Ironically now is the time that I actually feel able to. And it’s literally too late. Too much damage has been done. He was very broken before, as was I. We both have ADHD and are both struggling in life to keep up with work, home, parenting. He seemed to unbalanced, to be struggling so much, and I was too, so that made it very difficult to lean into him and into us. It felt like we were both just going to drown together. It didn’t feel like he would be my life boat and help me steer life in a positive way. It felt like he needed my help so much and I didn’t have enough to give. I wanted to but I just wasn’t able to.

And now that he is on medication, he is so much better. I wish he had been on this the whole time. Now he feels like an anchor, someone I can rely on. But it’s all meaningless as I can’t offer him enough to fix everything.

I feel like I didn’t really try in these last few days, when I look back. He was looking for so much reassurance but he came to me and instead of expressing what he needed, he lead with what wasn’t going to work and it felt like he had given up before we even talked. Which was a terrible feeling for me. But despite that, I should have recognized what he was feeling and what has caused these feelings and stepped up and just gave him reassurance. And I didn’t because I’m afraid I’ll never be able to give him what he needs. Practically and because emotionally I’m still going through my own stuff.

I’ve gone through so many periods of accepting that we won’t be together and thinking about perhaps finding another partner and feeling curious about that and who it would be, and then so many periods of feeling desperate for him back. I feel like I’ll never find someone I love as much as him. And that is fucking devastating.