My sincere apologies

The people we love will hurt us.

That’s a fact.

In life and love, I’m out here trying to find the people worth hurting for and worth working through things with. Sometimes I get it wrong, but it takes two to tango.

In that vein, please let me list my sincere apologies:

I’m sorry that when you told me you loved me way too soon I didn’t end things then. Whether you were lying to me or you genuinely felt it, I didn’t and it was a harbinger of problems to come. I saw it but looked for reasons to dismiss it. I was lonely but it would have saved us both pain. We weren’t on the same page.
When you went silent on me the first time for…I can’t even remember what the reason was honestly…I’m sorry I intruded on your space and just showed up at your door. I’m sorry I put you on the spot, walked with you to the park so your gay lover could sneak out the front, and let you make a fat joke at my expense, all while accepting your apology. (I didn’t figure out the gay lover part until much later.) I’m sorry I saw it as charming in a brutally honest sort of way. I’m sorry I didn’t take your ghosting and silence, after such effusive affection, as a sign that you weren’t ready for a mature relationship and continued to let things grow in both our hearts and dreams.
I’m sorry I believed your words over your actions. That was a disservice to you to allow things to continue for so long when you put a different reality right in front of me. I let us both dive deeper into the fantasy and that made the inevitable intrusion of reality that much more painful.
I’m sorry I couldn’t subsume my autonomy enough to keep you fully satisfied. I couldn’t be what you needed. I don’t know who could be, but I’m sorry it wasn’t me. This actually hurts.
I’m sorry I couldn’t read your mercurial mind and know, without failing, what you needed from moment to moment.
I’m sorry, I didn’t know what all your triggers were without you telling me.
I’m sorry that when you lost your temper or rationality, my first instinct was to try to soothe your rage instead of doing you the favour of holding you accountable for your own actions, regardless of the emotions you may have been feeling in that moment.
I’m sorry I wasn’t satisfied to live a half life, providing cover for your completely unnecessary shame.
I’m sorry I let you think I was ok with your lack of empathy for so long. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you more emphatically and frequently that it bothered me how little you seemed to care when I was obviously in pain if it inconvenienced you, either physically or emotionally, and I couldn’t consistently rely on you to provide the same support I would have for you.
I’m sorry I didn’t call you out on more of your lies sooner and I’m sorry that, when I finally did, I let you distract me from getting my answers by falling for your cancer stories.
I’m sorry I wanted to make you happy, at the expense of my own happiness, because that eventually made us both miserable.
I’m sorry I didn’t enforce stronger boundaries to maintain my own health.
I’m sorry I kept waiting for it to get better.
I’m sorry I gave you so much without expecting more in return. That doesn’t set up a good equal basis for a relationship in the long-term and we both deserved that.
I’m sorry that when you violated me physically and sexually, I suppressed it to try to keep you happy and maintain the fantasy.
I’m sorry I gave you forgiveness you never earned.
I’m sorry I didn’t call you on the lies so much sooner. I knew your last name for almost two weeks before you finally fessed up to your real name and that was just the beginning of the lies. I eventually called you on many of them and you doubled down.
I’m sorry I didn’t take your insistence to do things against my wishes, not just in the bedroom, as a sign that you didn’t fully respect me if what I wanted didn’t match what you wanted. From the decision on when to start trying for a baby, to buying a home, to the possible wedding date and a million small things in between it didn’t matter what I wanted if you wanted something different. I’m sorry I didn’t point this out to you more strongly and put my foot down more firmly.
I’m sorry I feared your temper or rejection. I still fear you though – so I’m not sure who I am apologizing to here.

Most of all, I am sorry to myself. I deserved better treatment from myself. I deserved a better love for me and from my partner that neither of us was providing for me.

That’s why I was empty that day on your couch. I had poured my all into you and not received enough in return. I was empty. You didn’t know how to fix it because you have a hole inside you that can consume as much heart as somebody can pour into it and still not have enough to give back.

I am still so sorry I couldn’t be enough to help you fill the hole. I actually am. It’s a toxic guilt but it’s there all the same.

On your teal-green couch I had just realized that, on top of everything else which I knew but was excusing for you and hoping would improve, you were ok putting my life in danger and not even telling me about it.

I probably would have been ok with that and continued down the path of you sucking me dry even longer if it weren’t for my son. I have to be here for Pumpkin though.

I couldn’t let you kill me – physically, emotionally or spiritually. I have to take care of him. So even if I didn’t love myself enough to do better for me, I do love him enough.

And Pumpkin is forcing me to love myself. I see my own beauty in his “I love you mommy’s”, whole-body-hugs, belly laughs, verbose but blunt retorts, and the cheeky grin he gives me when he knows he’s pushing it – because I taught him that.

I’m learning to forgive myself slowly.

I already forgave you a long time ago. I don’t think you’d believe it, but I did.

(The justice system shit is just to protect the next woman.)