Overlooking the good guy

I am skeptical about ever meeting a good guy.  And I am even more skeptical about knowing how to identify a good guy (rather than throwing myself into the arms of a bad guy again).  But then last night, it suddenly occurred to me.... I know a good guy.  I know a really really really good guy who breaks the mold and who is my anchor during times of heartache and sadness.

Yes, I know a wonderful guy who has always been there for me even when I rejected his advances and threw myself into the last relationship that I was in. Don is his name, and he has been everything that a girl could dream of, if not much much much much more.

Don, calls when he says he will.  Don has friends and loves kids, pets (especially dogs), and all kinds of food.  Don enjoys his sandwiches and milk like a little kid, but has the wisdom and patience of someone much older.  Don is someone I really don't know that well other than an attempted courtship that lasted oh, I don't know.... 4 months... Yet, he has been so present in my life, and so inspiring as well.

I rejected Don for many reasons, none of which I can remember now.  I just know that when I first met B., I told him Don that our time was gone and that I had already met someone else.  At the time, Don was so enamored with me, but he was not able to devote the time or attention to having a relationship. Work, responsibilities, and geographical distance contributed significantly to us not ever thinking it would ever work out.  The truth is that we met online and it was only phone conversations and emails that sustained us.  It wasn't enough for a real relationship, and it simply just wasn't enough for me.

Yet, Don has been in my life for 3 years now... although technically, we really only communicated closely for 4 months. Nevertheless, he was in my life during the 2 relationships I was in... He was silently in the background because I asked him to. Because I told him it wasn't right to be friends.  My understanding of cheating had been so pure before.  I thought it was wrong to be friends with someone who liked me.  I thought it was cheating in some way, and I told Don to give me space, back away, and not contact me. Ever. Being the absolute gentleman that he is, he begrudgingly agreed and kept his word. He never reached out to me in anyway, other than on my birthdays each year-- wishing me a good day and a good celebration. I have never given him a response.

...but for some reason, after the ending of both relationships, I always think back to Don and all of his patience, understanding, and compassion for me.  I think about what a great guy he is, and how validating it would be to hear his voice, and to simply be in his emotional presence.  Even on the phone, hearing his voice gives me a sense of stability that I've been looking for for so long.  He fills holes inside me without me asking.  He gives me encouragement without me having to tell him that I even need it.  So I miss him.  I miss the way he listens to me without judging, and I certainly remember him getting angry for me without me having to even explain myself to him.

After my first breakup with one guy, I remember calling Don and being in tears. I told him about the history of verbal abuse throughout the relationship. I told him how hard it was, how lonely I had been, and how angry I was feeling now that I finally broke up with him.  Don was so pissed, but he was also SO kind and compassionate to me.  He didn't say, "I told you so, you should have chosen me."  No, he's never done that.  He just listens and lets me be.

So, tonight and all of last night, I miss him.  I've been missing him and I'm being cautious not to act on my impulse.  I miss him more than he could ever imagine and I wonder how he is doing, how he feels, and whether he's been hurt by me.  I wish him love and happiness, and more than anything, I want to ask for forgiveness. Now that I know what cheating really is, I feel so stupid and naiive for having rejected his friendship.

I'm sorry Don.  I'm sorry I never chose you and I don't know if I ever will.  But I thank you so much for the safety you give me, the compassion you've expressed to me, and the unwavering support and care that you have given me-- in spirit, across distance, and in silence.  If you're angry at me, I understand.  If you don't ever want to be in touch with me, I also understand.  If you find me fickle, unappreciative, I also agree, and I am trying to grow and change.  I am sorry if I ever hurt you and I'm also sorry that I never told you how important you are to me. You may not know this, but you are irreplaceable in my life and even if we never talk, I will always think of you fondly for the rest of my life.  Your being, your presence in my life, has simply been inspiring.

You are my good guy.

Boundaries first, then affection.

I was walking Mr. Z. today when I came to realize how much doggy-parenting has changed me.  And will continue to change me.  Having read a ton on raising a dog, I now know that to be a good pack leader, you must set enforce rules, limitations, and boundaries before expressing affection.  The priorities that Cesar Millan (and other dog experts) emphasize the importance of discipline, then exercise, and lastly affection.

These professionals have given me pearls of wisdom to carry into future relationships.  See, when it comes to people, I have gone in the exact opposite order of operations.  I give affection first.  I give my all.  And when it comes time to setting rules, boundaries, and limitations, I eventually give those up too.

Perhaps with a good partner, he would not continuously violate my limits, in the ways that previous ex-boyfriends have.  What usually happens is that over time, they will ask for more and more and more, and I will slowly but surely say, "oh well. OK. if it make you happy."

Perhaps that is why some relationship experts emphasize that women should not give "it" up before being in a committed, monogamous relationship.  Make them wait for it.  Make them work for it.  More than anything, our bodies are the prize that we set limits on, create boundaries around, and it's only after the relationship hits a certain stage that affection can be given... that the body can then be given.

I don't know how much of this makes sense for others, but it's certainly food for thought.  I will continue to think more about the rules, boundaries, and limitations that I didn't impose, and I will surely wonder what it would have been like if I had put them in place right at the outset.

Casualties of a relationship

"I will never be the same after this relationship."

I always think that after every break-up.  And for the most part, it's always true.  People change you.  You change people.  You grow, learn from mistakes, try to make yourself better.

But I don't mean it in a positive way this time around. I wonder if I will ever heal from this relationship and if I will ever be the same without my purity again.
What purity, you ask?

At the most basic, I'd say it's the ability to trust someone else and to trust myself again.  One of the best things about being in love is feeling loved, thinking you are loved, and believing that you and someone else in this universe are both on the same page.  It's a wonderful, warm, safe, rejuvenating feeling that lifts you into cloud 9.  For me, I enjoy loving someone else but also feeling like someone else loves me too, thinks about me too, cherishes being with me too, and that whatever it is I feel, he also experiences, reciprocally.

I will never have that feeling again.  Or at least, I will never feel comfortable with that feeling again.  What felt so secure, will never be secure again.

This is the damage I think about.  This is where I think I will never be the same.

In the future, I will never be able to comfortably assume that with anyone I date, that we are on the same page and that our feelings for each other are reciprocal and mutual.  It's not like a romantic comedy movie where you see the girl miss the guy, and you also see the guy miss the girl.  No, if you play the last 2 years of my life as a movie, you'd see the girl missing her guy, pining over him and his needs, while he leads a double, triple, heck quadruple life manipulating other women and getting that attention that he loves so much.  My life was not the romantic comedy I envisioned it to be, and I don't think I can ever get back to that kind of genre again.

Am I being dramatic and catastrophic right now?  Maybe. Probably.  Mostly, I just feel sad for me and for all the people in the world who have ever been lied to without them ever knowing it.

What happens after?

Can two people be friends post-break-up?

In theory, it sounds like a wonderful thing.  "We couldn't make it as a couple, but we sure adore each other as friends."

In practice, though, does it really work?

I am working very hard to push-aside my denial and optimism because I fluctuate between intense anger and then a strong desire to reconnect again.  I think I miss him at times and I feel a significant loss.  But of what?  What have I lost?  What do I miss?

I can't answer those questions and it infuriates me.  Our time together was never that good.  Mostly, it was me giving up my lifestyle for his.  His schedule, his food preferences, his hobbies, his time frame, his priorities.  Of course, I can't wholly blame him for that because I chose to give up mine for his.  But what I'm saying is that our time together was never really that good.  So what is it that I miss?

A part of me feels like punishing him though.  This part of me wants to be un-reachable so that I convey the message of: "You treated me poorly as a partner, so you do not deserve to have me as a friend."

Hmm. I guess I wish our history wasn't so painful that we could be friends.  I wish he hadn't hurt me so much so that we could still be friends.  I wish I can look back on this relationship and have some positive memories right now, but alas, I can't.  And that's really what's so sad about all of this.  I'd like to miss him, but I can't.  I miss the idea of him, but who he is actually? What our relationship was, in reality?  I do not miss. Not at all.

Transferring energies

I love being a new pet mommy! I really do!
Right now, though, Mr. Z. is currently dealing with separation anxiety having been shuttled to so many homes throughout his adoption process.  The poor guy.  He throws up every single time I leave the house, whether it's in his crate or in the bathroom, and regardless of whether I leave for 20 minutes or for 3 hours.

But still, I adore having a dog and being a pet-owner.  We take 2 walks a day, 30 minutes each time, in the morning and at night.  I've gotten him tons of toys and treats and try to play with him as much as I can during the day when I am working at home sometimes.

My life does revolve around him right now.  We are signed up for beginning doggy classes for the next 6 Saturdays, and I rush home everyday to check on how he is doing with his separation anxiety.  I fuss over making his treats tempting and motivating, and I try to train him to respond to basic cues.

Raising Mr. Z. is very time-consuming, but it's also very worth it.  I feel his unconditional love, his happiness to see me everyday, and honestly, we already have more in common than I did with the ex.
Mr. Z. and I eat at the same time, sleep at the same time, and we like to watch the same TV shows.  OK, fine, I control all of those things, but still, we have a good ol' time together.

I have to check-in with myself sometimes to make sure that I'm not transferring my boyfriend energy into the dog, though.  In-between work, school, and taking care of a new dog, I don't have much time for myself, nor much time to really sit and have a moment to focus on me.  So, I have to be really careful not to jump into parenthood like I have done with relationships.  Because my tendency has always been to compromise compromise compromise.  And eventually that just means sacrifice.  I inevitably fall out of my social activities with friends, fall out of my routine in general, and in the relationship as well, I lose my voice, and finally, my identity.  So, I have to be careful and watch out for myself in THIS relationship as well.

The other woman

What is it about our imagination that makes others look so good, and ourselves, so bad?

Just now, I came across some pictures of the woman that I caught B. cheating with when we were together. One of them, I suppose.

In any case, I always thought she would be absolutely gorgeous, stunning, and a million times more beautiful than me.

Surprisingly, she isn't.

And even more surprisingly, is my assumption that she is supposed to be SOO MUCH better than me.

Why did I believe that? Why did I deflate myself so much and inflate someone else in comparison?

I have wasted a lot of time wondering whether he cheated because I'm not ____ (blank) enough. Wondering if it's because I wasn't pretty enough, smart enough, fun enough, exciting enough... WHATEVER enough.  And I've thought that if I were more _____ (blank), then maybe I would be worthy of being loyal and committed to.

How irrational and stupid that assumption is.

A friend of mine recently laughed in my face when I told her how much I lost my self-esteem from this relationship.  She told me that a cheater is a cheater, and that s/he will cheat no matter what.  She said to me, "Do you know the guy who cheated on Cindy Crawford?"  To which I responded, "No... who?"  And she replied, "Who cares! The point is that the guy cheated on Cindy Crawford! Cheating has nothing to do with how beautiful you are, how whatever you are! Cheaters will cheat no matter what!"

She went on to emphasize that a cheater will cheat regardless of the partner they have. Meanwhile, a person who is loyal will never cheat, and that has nothing to do with their partner either.  Cheating has nothing to do with how pretty, smart, funny, skilled you are.  It's about the cheater. It's about THEM entirely.  THEIR personality, THEIR choices, THEIR habits. THEIR issues.

I knew this, actually.

I know all of this at a logical level.  I just couldn't really emotionally accept that until.... now.  Until I just saw her picture and said to myself, "Really? her? He chose her over me?"

Poor woman. She's done nothing wrong and doesn't really deserve any of my judgment from looking at her picture.  It's him. It's always been him and his problems  He shouldn't have cheated on me AND he shouldn't have led-her-on.  I'm quite sure she never knew he had a girlfriend.

He's good.  He's really good at womanizing. He tricks women into thinking they are special when they are not, and he takes no responsibility for their heartache-- mine, or anyone else's. In fact, when he so adamantly claimed that he doesn't cheat, I posed one question to him and asked: "Just tell me this.  In all the time that we've been together, have you ever let another woman feel like she might be special to you?"  To which he stuttered and hesitated before taking no responsibility and saying that whatever they feel is up to them, and that he has no role in their feelings toward him.  AKA he takes no responsibility for leading them on, flirting with them, manipulating them, and then moving on to his next prey.

Could there be a worse response?  This is the ultimate example to show just how much of an asshole he really was.  And he still is, I'm sure.

Ugh, anger!

Ugh, anger. Why are you still here?
I have been in a state of avoidance all week.  I haven't journaled, I haven't blogged, I haven't bothered to think about relationships at all.  Being a new doggy mommy keeps me very pre-occupied, as does school, work, and all the other responsibilities that come with the beginning of a new year/semester.

But at night, I find myself crying. And often, I feel fury from within.  This anger has been turning inward these days, and I have found myself berating me.

It's not his fault that I stayed and stayed and stayed. I stayed.  Nobody put a gun to my head.
It's not his fault that I sacrificed, suffered, and tolerated all the infidelities and put myself into denial.
That wasn't him, that was all me.

So, this anger isn't really going anywhere productive because I have shamed myself into a rut, and all I want to do is find another hole, crawl into and hide out for as long as possible.

I want to hide... away from men, away from relationships with men, and most of all, I want to hide from myself.  I feel humiliated thinking about all those times when the relationship was bad, but I still stuck around and gave him/us the benefit of the doubt.  What made me feel strong before (ahem, optimism and belief in others' ability to change) now makes me cringe and feel utterly weak.

I am in a self-hate mode, and this is exactly why I need to write.  I need this out of my system and to figure out why I am unable to have self-compassion right now.

Grief process

There are several stages in the grief process:

1. Denial & Isolation
2. Anger
3. Bargaining
4. Depression
5. Acceptance

The numbering system give you a sense that this is a linear process. First, I'm in denial and I isolate myself. Then I feel all the anger. Then I begin to wonder about the possibilities of bargaining for anything but this loss, and later, I slump into depression before making my way into peaceful acceptance of reality.

Sounds good and dandy having such a straightforward process but the reality is that these so-called stages are that they're not as clean-cut as you think.  You go back and forth, you experience multiple at the same time, and for me, personally, I've had a difficult time not separating 1 and 4 together.

At this point in time, I think I'm at stage 2.  Finally.  A year after his 1st initial cheating fiasco was discovered, I now get to anger.  I know I was in denial for a long long time. And I know that it was because I didn't want to go through this process only to feel regretful at stage 4 and then try to get him back.  That's probably my greatest fear, I think.

I fear that I will later regret letting go, so I held on for as long as I could, no matter how difficult it was, so that eventually, when I do experience the loss (which I refuse to even accept as reality during the time), I can skip past bargaining to know that I did everything I could have possibly done to make it work.

This leaves me with.... anger, depression and acceptance left.

Betrayal

I was listening to a new song today and I realized how limited the English vocabulary is.  In other languages, there are so many words that simply don't exist in the U.S.

In any case, this song was about betrayal, and as you listen to the lyrics, you think that it's the betrayed person singing, but then it ends with him talking about wishing the other person good luck and wanting the best for them/her.  The song, once you soak in all of it, is about betrayal to yourself.  Betraying yourself at the expense of making the partner happy.  So, "go on and go forth to be happy.  I have sacrificed myself in all ways possible, let this be the last and final thing that I do for you.  Let this be the last time that I prioritize you over myself. The last time that I betray myself and my needs for someone else."

Wow.
It was SO powerful hear and oh-so-true.

I promptly broke into tears.

Being single, and love

I am a single mother to a 2-year-old dog who is recently adopted and who initially seemed like the dream dog.  He is still my dream dog, of course, but he is not as laid-back as I thought he was, and he is not actually potty-trained, and I suspect he has some serious separation anxiety issues because he chewed off chunks of my door frame this morning and has been soaked in his own vomit/pee for 2 consecutive mornings in a row....

Because I've never really had a pet before (other than goldfish that I overfed and a turtle that I underfed-- both in elementary school), raising Mr. Z. is quite stressful for me even though I have read/watched numerous books, articles, and shows about raising a dog.  I KNOW A LOT!  I know information at a theoretical level, but actually being responsible for a life-- on my own-- is quite scary.

I signed up to be a single mom and completed the adoption process the day after I broke up with B.  Adopting Mr. Z. was actually the catalyst for the break-up because I knew I could not parent with someone like him, I did not want to parent with someone like him, and because I knew that whatever life I would bring into my life would deserve better than whatever/however B. would treat him.

So I am proud to say that I am a single mom of an adorable dog, but I have to also say that it's kind of hard and that I kind of wish I had someone to rely on.  I kind of wish I could just sleep and not worry if he needs to potty (because he won't tell me), and that I can go to meetings without worrying about how to leave the house without getting Mr. Z nervous, and also being anxious about what the house will look like when I come home. I am dreading the day when we may have to run to the emergency vet clinic one night, at an ungodly hour when something may happen and I will have to make a decision by myself for him.  Will I make the right decisions? Will I know what is happening? Will I know what to do in the moment?  I don't even feel like I know what I'm doing now, much less how I'll respond in an emergency.

The best thing about having a dog though, is feeling the love that he has for me.  It's quite healing to be loved unconditionally and to see the appreciation and the joy that he has for simple things like taking a walk, getting food, playing with his toys. His presence grounds me and helps me to be able to sit-in-the-moment to just be.  Thanks, Mr. Z.  Thanks for taking care of me.  I'll do my best to take care of you too.

Ending of a chapter

As of this week, we no longer live in the same city or state, or even region of the country.

Last week, he left a voicemail to say he was leaving for his new job and that he would return to me my favorite Frank Sinatra CD and a pair of earrings that I left at his apartment.  He also had some old binders that he wanted to give me (I am a stationery lover, so I assume that was his way of being friendly, loving, or giving) and said he would leave it with his secretary for me to pick up.  He wished me luck for the future, told me he was fine and that he was back on anti-depressants and then he apologized for being a jerk.

My reaction?

- Happy:  At least he's saying goodbye.
- Disappointed: Why didn't he say he wanted to see me one more time?
- Conflicted: Why do I care if he wants to see me one more time? I broke up with him for cheating and I am the one that said I never want to see or hear from you again.
- Hopeful: Should I call him back to say goodbye in person?
- Sad: He really is leaving. I can't imagine being in that city without him.
- Relieved: He really is leaving. I can have my city back again.
- Surprised: Did he say sorry? What?! He knows he's a jerk? He has remorse? He knows what guilt feels like?
- Validated: Yes, he is a jerk. The biggest jerk I've ever met and finally, finally, finally, he admits to being someone who has constantly been a negative source of energy for me.
- Indifferent: Why are you calling? I said don't contact me ever again.

In the end, I saved his voicemail and never called back.  That is very UNlike me, because I am a huge advocate for closure and for 2 people saying goodbye.  But reality has bitten me in the ass so many times that I've realized it's impossible to really say goodbye peacefully when there has been so much damage down throughout the way.  So I went through an entire day of internal conflict and questioning and cried a lot, thinking about the implications of calling/not calling and knowing that we will never see each other again.

As far as I am concerned, we will never see each other again. Even if we do, a significant chapter of my life has closed and it can never be re-opened again.  We will NEVER live together in the same city again.  We will NEVER work in offices near each other again.  We will NEVER be together again so that we go in and out of the same house, kitchen, living room, bed, and emerge as a couple to go to different places in the city and country.  This chapter of my life is closed and it is a loss, nevertheless.

Goodbye.

I simultaneously feel like saying "good riddance" and also crying out, "don't leave me here alone". As usual, I have so many conflicted feelings.

Anger

Dear Anger,

  Hello. It's me.  Nice to meet you.  No, not really. It's not nice to meet you. We don't know each other very well but I'm starting to get acquainted with you and I'm very uncomfortable. You are overwhelming to me, foreign. Scary, to be exact.  These days, I find myself meeting you every night as I lay awake in bed, unable to sleep. I replay scenarios from my relationship and start to feel all of the things I didn't feel before.  Big, hot teardrops erupt from my eyes, like lava from a volcano rolling, tumbling, speeding their way down my face, burning as I feel more and more indignant about all the wrongs that he has done me.  I feel indignant. I feel hot. I breathe heavily, and I catch myself clenching my teeth. I never felt this way before when I was with him.  Is this what I should have experienced before? Is this what people meant when they said, "Where is your healthy anger?" each time I caught him cheating?

  I feel used. Used and abused. Discarded. Re-used. Discarded again.  At his convenience, I was at his whim for anything: a car ride, my heater, my bed, my couch, my patio, my spellcheck abilities... Given his international status here, I was also his cultural broker, teaching him the ways of our country, the culture of our country, educating him about the social norms, routines, and activities that we experience here on a day-to-day level.  I showed him what it was like to eat at different restaurants in town -- good ones too, I might add.  I drove him to places beyond his typical 5 mile radius between home and work.  I cooked for him. Cleaned for him. Gave up my own hobbies to accommodate to him because he hates watching TV and would insult me (and my culture and my people) to criticize how much we didn't appreciate the outdoors.  I showed him as much of my world as I can and tried to open his eyes to living a life outside of work and sleep.  In turn, he offered insults and condescension about my way of living, and would often expand it to the "people in my country" and the "people in my culture."

Did I feel angry at those times? Heck yeah. And we would often fight about it.  But I was fighting for what felt like social advocacy and I believed I was standing up against him to challenge his ignorance.  I wasn't necessarily angry for me.  I did know then, that he was a terrible fit for me, that his values are completely the opposite of mine. I knew I couldn't respect him and his outward disdain for others different from him. I couldn't stand his inability to tolerate new things and his lack of social etiquette to simply co-exist with the new.

Even as I write this, I feel anger now.  Anger that I could have suppressed before, because if I did feel anger, I would have to leave.  Actually, he would have had to leave.  If I had felt the anger as strongly as I do now, then I would have had to leave him, altogether.  But I wasn't there yet. Not emotionally, so I couldn't leave.  And if I can't leave, then I have to live under a false pretense of accepting him for who he is, and not being angry.  I chose pity.  I chose to pity him instead, and to take on the charitable work of opening his eyes to multiculturalism and diversity.   I treated him like I would a volunteer project and I became a helper.  If you are assisting someone weaker than you, there is no possible way to be mad, is there? Or impatient?  I drew from the deepest parts of me to have compassion instead.

Oh, the denial I've been in!  THAT is what I'm familiar with.