Maybe I shouldn’t be so angry.
None of how this played out is a surprise. I knew what was going on, even if I decided to play along with the lies. I kept it up while being denied the chance to fix things with us, not just with me. I changed more than I had-I started to fix me.
But it wasn’t enough.
It’s not the moving on the bothers me, making me see red and use the delete button liberally in some cases. It’s the lying. The continual lying. Not the once or twice I stretched the truth. But the in your face, for months, when directly confronted lying.
Yes, it makes me “bitter”. Because I thought that even if we grew apart, even if he wanted to just get tattoos and go to rock shows while I wanted to rebuild the house and just sit back and raise the kids while writing, we could still find a way through without so much pain and anger, so much lying and deception.
But no. And it makes me bitter because I’m angry and wounded, because that sort of betrayal, that which I would have never expected from someone I loved, because it isn’t just something I can put in a box and ignore? My anger is real, and justified, and I will move through it when I move through it. I have grieved in the past, and anger-that’s usually the one I have the most trouble with.
I can forgive a lot. I am, by nature, not a grudge holder. The energy it takes to hold a grudge! But I am black and white with this type of thing, and truly nauseated that the more I talk to people, the more I see it happens to so many people. It makes my heart hurt. We trade I love you’s like baseball cards, and then step back and destroy each other?
Yes,we change. But at some point, we have to also be adults, and humans, and realize that some pains are lesser than others. I’ve spent years believing I only deserve someone who is barely ever interested in me, or the family, unable to split attention from a world that only exists inside a computer. Now, I don’t believe that so much. Now I know I deserve love, affection and attention, just like anyone else does. As do my children. It’s easier to focus on them when we’re away from each other.
I am angry. I am seething, burning, need to start kickboxing or jogging angry. But mostly, I’m angry at me-for letting it get this way, for never having the balls to do more than look for apartments on Kijiji and dream of a day when he would love me, a day when family was worth working for.
As I’ve said, I have earned this anger. I have earned the right to feel betrayed. I have earned this fire.