Bittersweet Symphony, for sure
My wedding band came off for the last time today. Ceremoniously removed by the one who placed it there from the start. And although the ritual felt intimate, it gave us both a sense of finality we had been overdue for.
I fell in love hard and fast back then. She was everything, and the only thing I wanted for a very long time. Once I had her, I knew I had to do everything I could to keep her. So we make allowances, compromise ourselves, walk around tough topics, avoid things that forge insecurities, and try our best to adapt and maintain. But through all of my years of working toward being the perfect partner, father, and beyond, I chipped away pieces of myself, making me smaller and smaller until I was nothing but an illusion. I knew I couldn't sustain it, and I started to feel so much resentment because, by my own fault, I was stifled and no longer felt true to who I was.
I made a lot of mistakes. It's not that I didn't love her, and I honestly always will. I stopped loving me, and the damage to that relationship was too far reaching.
I had thought about, fantasized even, about the end. For years, I had wild ideas about her cheating on me so I could break free, or even worse. I always felt like I was only going to be able to get out when she was ready to move on. Like it could never be my idea - then I would be the bad guy, and that's never been a role I'm comfortable in.
Instead, I am the villain in her story. I lied, for years, about how unhappy I was. I cheated, in her eyes, while trying to see what more was out there. I tore her away from everything just to bring her all the way across the country and toss her aside like forgotten romaine in the back of the crisper. And none of it isn't true.
So now the move forward. The press onward, over and through - I just hope she can. And I hope that I'm not so much of an asshole that I can still give pause to reflect on everything I've lost in this choice I've made.