What I've learned in the past 72 hours

Is long past due.

Here.

And to myself.

And it came this weekend.

I am going to tell you what happened as diplomatically as I can.  I am going to protect one person who truly deserves to be protected.  I will protect the rest even though they deserve absolutely nothing from me.   That’s not true, they deserve a lot of things, protection, and respect are not among them.

The thing is, the longer I sit and think about this as I write it, the more I think, what’s the point?  It won’t change anything.  They won’t care. Well, they might, they might get mad.

But there’s more to the story than just this one incident.  And because of that, I’ll tell the entire story.

Brian and I broke up the day after Christmas, but we suck at commitment. Truly. We can’t commit to staying together, and we couldn’t commit to staying apart. (until now.)   We started ‘dating’ again… basically we went to dinner and had sex.  Not really ‘dating’ but he called it that.

We gradually worked back to me being allowed at his mother’s house (where he lives).  Me. ALLOWED.  Whatever. But I felt like I was working, begging, pleading for attention, phone calls, text messages, something to show me he remembered me, thought about me, maybe even missed me. She went out-of-town for a week.  I was ALLOWED to come over every night after work, because A) I brought dinner home with me every night (and was never reimbursed for it) and B) I did the dishes.  I got to spend the weekend she was gone, at the house, and that meant I got to clean the house and do everyone’s laundry. YIPPIE!!!

And yet, I stayed.

The day finally came when he actually needed me.  Because he was working, and something needed to be done.  So I agreed. (This is where the protecting ungrateful people comes in).  Something happened that morning, and to be honest, I lost my shit.  It rocked my to my core.  I was hurt, disappointed, pissed off,  just beside myself.  And could do nothing, because, I was nobody.  I was not the parent, I wasn’t even the step-parent, or the step-parent-to-be.  To be honest, I wasn’t even The Girlfriend.  I was the parent’s fuck buddy.

The parent’s reaction to the situation?  Blew me the fuck away.  My opinion? Because it’s my blog, and my opinion doesn’t even matter in real life, but my opinion? They totally UNDER reacted.  But, then again, I was nobody.  I got told “Butt the fuck out” and then got told “Go Fuck Yourself” in a text message. From Brian.

The entire drama of the entire situation (add to the fact that there were lies being told about me that I was never able to defend, refute, or prove wrong) and I went over the edge.  I wanted it all to go away.  I wanted this shit over with.  I wanted nothing to do with this group of people whose level of  discipline is so much  less than mine, whose explanation was un-fucking-believable.  All I could think was “Who the fuck are these people and why have I been begging to be a part of this family?”

I wanted the hurt, my hurt, to stop.  I didn’t want to die, I didn’t want to go away, I just wanted release.  I knew nothing I did would ever matter to him. I knew he no longer cared, if he ever did.  But I wanted to lash out, needed to vent my anger at someone.

And I was the only one there.

And I vented. And I lashed out.  And I broke down.  Much like I celebrated my 37th birthday.

I spent 10 hours yesterday in the hospital. My bosses sent me.  My best friend called Brian to tell him.  He texted me “Tell her to stop calling me.”  I sent him a text that said “No need for you to check on me unless you actually care.”

He never made the effort.

Today, I sent him one last text message, “Thank you for everything. You taught me that I deserve SO much better than you, and that size isn’t the only thing that matters.”