I hate that it ended like this.

I hate that it ended like this. I hate that the solution was so simple. I hate that neither of us could find it. I hate that she lied all the time. I hate that that made trusting and believing anything she said impossible, and I hate that I had severe Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria that the lack of trust only made infinitely worse. I hate that she wasn’t willing to keep promises, and I hate that I needed her to so badly. I hate that my past traumas made it so hard to take things at face value. I hate that her traumas made her feel she couldn’t be honest. I hate that sometimes, my reactions confirmed her biases. I hate that sometimes, hers confirmed mine.

I hate that I waffle from incredible anger to the deepest anguish. I hate that I loved someone who never loved me back. I hate that I was just a phase and an experiment for her, but I was dedicated to her. I hate that I was blind to what my wife went through, watching me give everything meant for her to someone who didn’t even want it. I hate that I allowed someone who finds the idea of having kids abhorrent to lecture me on how to raise mine. I hate that I never found the balls early on to stand up to her insane mood swings.

I hate that I’ll never get another text from her ever again. I hate that I want one, even still. I hate that I still pick up my phone 278 times a day to see if she’s there. I hate that my inability to control my insecurities have made it so she never will be. I hate that I feel guilt and shame for breaking my promise to her. I hate that she never felt guilt or shame for breaking her promises to me.

I hate that I’m sitting here falling the fuck apart because she repeatedly hurt me, she’s over there, upset only because she’s worried I might hurt her career. I hate that she cheated on me with Ross in Comox while we were still together. I hate that she came into my house while I was out of town and after being told explicitly NOT to, rearranged my entire kitchen, all the appliances, cabinets and tables and organized my wife’s kitchen as she saw fit. I hate that she was insulted and pissed off that we weren’t grateful. I hate that she broke up with me two days later by blindsiding me on a bike ride. I hate that she let me buy her lunch first. I hate that I reacted terribly. I hate that my abandonment and rejection dysphoria made me tear up photos and act like a child. I hate that I couldn’t do better. I hate that I ended up in therapy, and I hate having to admit that I needed it.

I hate that she told me she needed to be single and not date, that she needed to work on herself, and fix whatever was broken inside her. I hate that she gave me the whole “It’s not you, it’s me” speech and told me she needed to not date for awhile. I hate that within a VERY short period of time, she was on Bumble, looking to date someone. I hate that she lied to me. I hate that that made me feel like I was defective and that she could do better. I hate that she met Will on Bumble, and I hate that she went to Vancouver to fuck him. I hate that she did it the same weekend she’d promised my son she’d come to his football game. I hate that the only reason I found out about it because she accidentally showed me his text on her phone. I hate that for the rest of my life “I missed waking up next to you this morning” will be a thick white scar etched on the inside of my skull where I will never stop feeling it. I hate that she never felt bad about how much that hurt, only annoyed that she showed it to me by accident.

I hate that I was so hurt that I did the thing that I knew would scare her the most. I hate that I couldn’t find a better way to be seen or heard. I hate that I hurt her because I didn’t want to hold all that hurt by myself. I hate that couldn’t stop childhood trauma from controlling my actions. I hate that I didn’t do better. I hate that she had to ask me how I went from being the safest person in her life to the one who hurt her the most. I hate that she wouldn’t see that I was asking her the same thing.

I hate that we had a huge blowout and for days, tried to work on repairing and trying to salvage a friendship. I hate that when she asked what I needed, I asked her for 6 months to untangle and shift from lovers to friends. I hate that she agreed, but secretly resented me for it. I loved that she agreed and made promises and then slowly made me feel safe and cared for. I hate that she broke her promise and installed Hinge and created a profile. I hate that she broke her promise and started dating. I hate that she said “FUCK YOU” to the traumatized little kid that SHE found sheltering in me and then betrayed her promise and traumatized him all over again. I hate her for not caring for one second about the promise she made, and lied, and the damage it did. I HATE that it didn’t bother her at all. I hate that it bothered me so much.

I hate that she invited me to basketball and dinner and then used my showing up as an excuse to destroy everything. I hate that my invitation to dinner became his when I didn’t reply because I was doing the work she asked me to. I hate that she blamed it all on me because I didn’t message her while she was at work, when she’s told me over and over to NOT message her while she’s at work. I hate that she didn’t bother to message me to ask if we were still on. I hate that I made the decision to go to see her play basketball, because she hadn’t rescinded her invitation or otherwise indicated that the offer was off the table. I hate that she acted like a child when I showed up and pretended she didn’t see me and ran away. I hate that she blamed her panic when I showed up on ME being a threat to her safety. I hate that it was her panic at her alternate plans being interfered with by my showing up. I hate that I was never the cause of her panic, but I got blamed for it all. I hate that she blamed me for everything. I hate that like always I’m 95% sure what the truth is, but can’t really know. I hate that she makes me guess what is truth and then rages if I get it wrong. I hate that she finally called me and then lied to me. I hate that she told me the day before how calm and thoughtful my messages were, but 24 hours later she was so terrified of me she wouldn’t answer her phone and ran. I hate that she then agreed to meet me on the side of a highway, in the dark, late at night, in the rain, alone, and then got in my truck. I hate that I know that people that are that concerned for their safety would never do that.

I hate that we both tried to talk while activated. I hate that she said things that were in direct opposition for what she’d told me just a few hours earlier. I hate that I asked her to show me the text that proved it happened the way she claimed it did. I hate that she refused because we both knew she was lying. I hate that she tried to make me out to be a demon when it was her that was being fucking awful. I hate that in a moment of pure, unadulterated fear, frustration and hurt, in a moment when I got out of my truck fully activated and screaming in anguish, I ran to the cliff at the side of the road with every intention of leaping head first into the dark… In that moment that I was a traumatized little kid finally facing my biggest fear as being real and having to accept it… She got in her car and drove away without so much as a sideways glance.

I hate that she broke her biggest promise.

~ R