To Write, Ah, Perchance To Understand...
Stories. The things we tell on here so often. The shades we give the events that make them up. The opinions and beliefs those shades form.
I'm struck by the many versions of 'truth' out there. To my mind, there seems to be only one real universal truth anymore, and everything else is simply subjective. Hell, even that one universal truth, many don't believe exist... so is it really all that universal?
That's an existential point I don't wish to explore, really. Returning to my topic: the truths we tell ourselves. How do we know so certainly they are true?
I felt forced to let go of the girl I love in December. To me, I percieved that I had treated her badly a year before and at the end of that spring, after tearing her apart with my behavior--even if I was not aware of how ridiculous I was behaving (how I could not have been, I do not know... I was such a moron, and such a bastard)--she was very painfully hurt. When I returned to her that August, proclaiming to be a new man and showing her the proof in every day she allowed me to spend by her side from that point on, I hoped (and asked) that she would forgive all my trespasses and trust me completely as she once did--something I knew I needed if I were to be in a relationship with her (or anyone). I made that clear to her, and she insisted so often over the course of the next four months that she did, in fact, trust me. Despite this, I could not be satisfied because as I went on being the better person I intended, I'd see things in her resembling how she'd treat me when I was being a douche that past year. I came to her calmly at first, but as time went on, my patience wore thin. After two and a half months of this, I gotten to the point of losing my temper with what I could only percieve as inconsistencies in her nature. I should mention that patience is something I worked to improve in myself, and I was in fact a little proud that I went over two months with these very annoying things before I myself began to lose my patience. We began fighting in the later part of the semester, to which we turned often to our friends for support. This is when Brandon, my best friend, told Heather to break up with me (rather than respect a friendsip and talk to me). In addition, I was faced with the fact that people were showing me one thing and saying another about me behind my back-professionally and personally--a fact Heather harshly delivered in one arguement. In the meantime, her lack of trust and the viciousness it sometimes came at me with began to wear me too thin. I told her that things needed to change before we left for the semester break and she graduated, because the only chance of long distance working for me would be to know I had her total trust. She again insisted that she trusted me, but agreed to work harder. I pondered if something in me was making me feel like she didn't trust me, but I could not see it as hard as I looked. Three weeks before the end of the semester, I was hurt by her harsh behavior and on that night, a culmination of everything I was feeling, we broke up on fairly good terms, agreeing that at this point, there was nothing we could do, but we still loved each other dearly and that this essentially sucked. It was only the next day when I found her letter with the promise ring I gave her that I found out she hated me and thought I didn't love her. That was the most hurtful blow of all.
Her story, I know, is different. To her, perhaps she did feel like she trusted me and didn't see the lacks she was displaying, or perhaps she did and was denying them, hoping them to go away, or perhaps she did trust me and I was finding something in nothing (as I said, I tried to see this for myself but found nothing). However it was, her claim now (according to a friend, Alex, who spent significant time with her and Brandon while they were hooking up over break) is that I treated her badly during the fall semester that I'd proclaimed to be a better person. I asked how, and Adam said she reported that I was "emotionally abusive," though he could not offer any demonstrations of how. I was furious to hear that, since I'd done all in my power to be a good man to her and if I'd ever hurt her at all, it was never my intention, not to mention that I'd asked her to come to me if I ever did and call my bull, but she never did (perhaps she will say she tried to and I would not listen, but I do not believe I would have taken such a claim so lightly). Perhaps she didn't percieve of it as she was being emotionally abused until after the night we broke up. Again, I cannot say. Her story says that I was emotionally abusive, however. That lens, I'm afraid, has painted me with loathing, something I never wanted to be seen as in Heather's eyes. The fact that she does see me as such is more painful to me than the letter she wrote me, and I am helpless to change anything about that fact. I want to change it, to make her happy, but I am powerless to.
So wherein lies the truth? I believe my side of things, but she obviously believes in hers. Where lies the actuallity of it all?
For one, we both need to be honest with outselves. I feel I have been to the best of my ability. Someone show me how I can be more honest about this, show me some hidden thing I'd not considered, and I'll reconsider. And I'm sure Heather feels the same way. The fact is, however, that I think I can see why she'd say I was abusive.
We did argue a few times that semester. Far less than any other time we'd been together, but we still did. I would express my frustrations with shouting and words, she would lock things up and not show them many times. She hated yelling because in her home, her family never yelled. Mine always did. We'd grown up these different ways, and had brought them with us as we loved one another. I'd practiced patience to compliment her and because I did not want to always be so upset, but I see nothing wrong with being angry and expressing anger when you feel it. We had different ideas about that. Does that, then make me abusive? Did I try to hurt her, put her down or anything of the sort in my frustrations, as I had a year ago when I was a dick? I dare say I did not; I was very intentional and specific in my anger, making sure that I expressed only that and not use it against her. But to someone who has never dealt with anger, and who's only experience with it before was at the hands of a dick a year before, she is not wrong for feeling intimidated by anger being expressed safely; she has no other perception of it. Of course, this rides heavily on heresay; I'm only trying to understand why she would say I was being abusive, because to me (and ironically enough, she told me the night we broke up), I was a good boyfriend to her (she actually said wonderful.)
Does my ability to consider her side make my truth more true? No, I dare say it doesn't. But it does make my perception of the events more open-minded, and perhaps I am then better able to understand the other truths that float around my own, if anyone would give me the chance to discuss and consider them, without allowing human pride and stubborness to get in the way.
I will not get that chance for now. Heather has asked that I not contact her, and I will honor that. My only hope is that she comes to me willingly and with an open mind to talk about what happened. That will take time, I know. And I also know I will keep loving her until then and beyond then.
In the meantime, I am living a new life which began with my reformations in early August. This January, with a very interesting winter break, I'm finding new things to experiment with and new drives to push as I'm being forced to grow up quickly. I feel now that life a mess, but closer to as it's supposed to be, and that my story has had yet another rising action, climax, falling action and is now onto the next chapter. I am confident that the important characters will re-occur and that the stories that we think are over are far from. Their current arc has ended, but the characters are not dead nor are they removed from us. When bonds like love and friendship are shared so strongly, they cannot simply be broken. They can be wounded and we may feel like saying they are cut entirely, but they are not. They are only damaged and the fabric of our stories will bring them back as time heals the hurt. Face it, even the person who you keep away or stays away out of stubborn and hurt pride is still affecting you and your story; they are still a character, even if not directly present. It's what you chose to do with that that will move along the plot.
I'm struck by the many versions of 'truth' out there. To my mind, there seems to be only one real universal truth anymore, and everything else is simply subjective. Hell, even that one universal truth, many don't believe exist... so is it really all that universal?
That's an existential point I don't wish to explore, really. Returning to my topic: the truths we tell ourselves. How do we know so certainly they are true?
I felt forced to let go of the girl I love in December. To me, I percieved that I had treated her badly a year before and at the end of that spring, after tearing her apart with my behavior--even if I was not aware of how ridiculous I was behaving (how I could not have been, I do not know... I was such a moron, and such a bastard)--she was very painfully hurt. When I returned to her that August, proclaiming to be a new man and showing her the proof in every day she allowed me to spend by her side from that point on, I hoped (and asked) that she would forgive all my trespasses and trust me completely as she once did--something I knew I needed if I were to be in a relationship with her (or anyone). I made that clear to her, and she insisted so often over the course of the next four months that she did, in fact, trust me. Despite this, I could not be satisfied because as I went on being the better person I intended, I'd see things in her resembling how she'd treat me when I was being a douche that past year. I came to her calmly at first, but as time went on, my patience wore thin. After two and a half months of this, I gotten to the point of losing my temper with what I could only percieve as inconsistencies in her nature. I should mention that patience is something I worked to improve in myself, and I was in fact a little proud that I went over two months with these very annoying things before I myself began to lose my patience. We began fighting in the later part of the semester, to which we turned often to our friends for support. This is when Brandon, my best friend, told Heather to break up with me (rather than respect a friendsip and talk to me). In addition, I was faced with the fact that people were showing me one thing and saying another about me behind my back-professionally and personally--a fact Heather harshly delivered in one arguement. In the meantime, her lack of trust and the viciousness it sometimes came at me with began to wear me too thin. I told her that things needed to change before we left for the semester break and she graduated, because the only chance of long distance working for me would be to know I had her total trust. She again insisted that she trusted me, but agreed to work harder. I pondered if something in me was making me feel like she didn't trust me, but I could not see it as hard as I looked. Three weeks before the end of the semester, I was hurt by her harsh behavior and on that night, a culmination of everything I was feeling, we broke up on fairly good terms, agreeing that at this point, there was nothing we could do, but we still loved each other dearly and that this essentially sucked. It was only the next day when I found her letter with the promise ring I gave her that I found out she hated me and thought I didn't love her. That was the most hurtful blow of all.
Her story, I know, is different. To her, perhaps she did feel like she trusted me and didn't see the lacks she was displaying, or perhaps she did and was denying them, hoping them to go away, or perhaps she did trust me and I was finding something in nothing (as I said, I tried to see this for myself but found nothing). However it was, her claim now (according to a friend, Alex, who spent significant time with her and Brandon while they were hooking up over break) is that I treated her badly during the fall semester that I'd proclaimed to be a better person. I asked how, and Adam said she reported that I was "emotionally abusive," though he could not offer any demonstrations of how. I was furious to hear that, since I'd done all in my power to be a good man to her and if I'd ever hurt her at all, it was never my intention, not to mention that I'd asked her to come to me if I ever did and call my bull, but she never did (perhaps she will say she tried to and I would not listen, but I do not believe I would have taken such a claim so lightly). Perhaps she didn't percieve of it as she was being emotionally abused until after the night we broke up. Again, I cannot say. Her story says that I was emotionally abusive, however. That lens, I'm afraid, has painted me with loathing, something I never wanted to be seen as in Heather's eyes. The fact that she does see me as such is more painful to me than the letter she wrote me, and I am helpless to change anything about that fact. I want to change it, to make her happy, but I am powerless to.
So wherein lies the truth? I believe my side of things, but she obviously believes in hers. Where lies the actuallity of it all?
For one, we both need to be honest with outselves. I feel I have been to the best of my ability. Someone show me how I can be more honest about this, show me some hidden thing I'd not considered, and I'll reconsider. And I'm sure Heather feels the same way. The fact is, however, that I think I can see why she'd say I was abusive.
We did argue a few times that semester. Far less than any other time we'd been together, but we still did. I would express my frustrations with shouting and words, she would lock things up and not show them many times. She hated yelling because in her home, her family never yelled. Mine always did. We'd grown up these different ways, and had brought them with us as we loved one another. I'd practiced patience to compliment her and because I did not want to always be so upset, but I see nothing wrong with being angry and expressing anger when you feel it. We had different ideas about that. Does that, then make me abusive? Did I try to hurt her, put her down or anything of the sort in my frustrations, as I had a year ago when I was a dick? I dare say I did not; I was very intentional and specific in my anger, making sure that I expressed only that and not use it against her. But to someone who has never dealt with anger, and who's only experience with it before was at the hands of a dick a year before, she is not wrong for feeling intimidated by anger being expressed safely; she has no other perception of it. Of course, this rides heavily on heresay; I'm only trying to understand why she would say I was being abusive, because to me (and ironically enough, she told me the night we broke up), I was a good boyfriend to her (she actually said wonderful.)
Does my ability to consider her side make my truth more true? No, I dare say it doesn't. But it does make my perception of the events more open-minded, and perhaps I am then better able to understand the other truths that float around my own, if anyone would give me the chance to discuss and consider them, without allowing human pride and stubborness to get in the way.
I will not get that chance for now. Heather has asked that I not contact her, and I will honor that. My only hope is that she comes to me willingly and with an open mind to talk about what happened. That will take time, I know. And I also know I will keep loving her until then and beyond then.
In the meantime, I am living a new life which began with my reformations in early August. This January, with a very interesting winter break, I'm finding new things to experiment with and new drives to push as I'm being forced to grow up quickly. I feel now that life a mess, but closer to as it's supposed to be, and that my story has had yet another rising action, climax, falling action and is now onto the next chapter. I am confident that the important characters will re-occur and that the stories that we think are over are far from. Their current arc has ended, but the characters are not dead nor are they removed from us. When bonds like love and friendship are shared so strongly, they cannot simply be broken. They can be wounded and we may feel like saying they are cut entirely, but they are not. They are only damaged and the fabric of our stories will bring them back as time heals the hurt. Face it, even the person who you keep away or stays away out of stubborn and hurt pride is still affecting you and your story; they are still a character, even if not directly present. It's what you chose to do with that that will move along the plot.