Not quite reconciled really at all...
But as a result of my getting drunk and J going to therapy, I'm pretty certain there will be no dumping forthcoming. At least for a month or two. Instead, we go see his therapist next week and then maybe couples therapy after that. I can't shake the feeling that J will probably go through a year or two of therapy, come out a changed and happy man, and promptly dump me because he will finally know his own mind and that I'm not what he wants.
Fuck it. I know he's what I want (at his better moments obviously). Last night, he carried my drunk, 180 pound self up 3 flights of stairs. That was one of those moments. And these last few months living together, we actually have a number of great moments--but as my mom always says "You girls [I suspect because when she's angry, she gets our names confused] only remember the bad things!"
Yesterday I realized that even though J had been talking that same bullshit he had been talking a year ago (that is before last night's therapy session), I am not the person I was a year ago. And, I probably won't ever be. I realize that my reactions to those comments were so much healthier and better than they had been a year ago. It was the real reason I suddenly had hope and wanted to try. I need to let things go a little farther, or I will always wonder if I gave up too soon. It might hurt me, but I know, I mean I really know, that I can always take care of myself and do the things that I need to get over this if it doesn't work out--I'm therapy girl after all, and I have no problem calling people when I'm in need--hell I might even come out of it better than before. But, there is no way for me to cure regret, and as long as I have some sense that things could end happily ever after, ending it now would always leave that gap of speculation that would drive me nuts (and maybe even get us back together for a THIRD try). So, here's to trying to reinstill some hope.
Fuck it. I know he's what I want (at his better moments obviously). Last night, he carried my drunk, 180 pound self up 3 flights of stairs. That was one of those moments. And these last few months living together, we actually have a number of great moments--but as my mom always says "You girls [I suspect because when she's angry, she gets our names confused] only remember the bad things!"
Yesterday I realized that even though J had been talking that same bullshit he had been talking a year ago (that is before last night's therapy session), I am not the person I was a year ago. And, I probably won't ever be. I realize that my reactions to those comments were so much healthier and better than they had been a year ago. It was the real reason I suddenly had hope and wanted to try. I need to let things go a little farther, or I will always wonder if I gave up too soon. It might hurt me, but I know, I mean I really know, that I can always take care of myself and do the things that I need to get over this if it doesn't work out--I'm therapy girl after all, and I have no problem calling people when I'm in need--hell I might even come out of it better than before. But, there is no way for me to cure regret, and as long as I have some sense that things could end happily ever after, ending it now would always leave that gap of speculation that would drive me nuts (and maybe even get us back together for a THIRD try). So, here's to trying to reinstill some hope.