Some time ago, I left my business partner, and it was a tough decision, one that I had grappled with for a very long time. We had been together over the span of about 17 years, with some time in between, where I had stopped working for or rather with her (Freudian slip?!) and then returned, frustrated, because there wasn’t anyone like her, and I thought that if I wanted to be in this business I had to endure our personality issues and communication problems which were very present from the start. I was under the impression back then that when things were painful they must be good, they must be working. I have come to see that as being a big lie of life.
In these last few months, I have been dealing with my own withdrawal from her, and the process has not been simple. I think that she is a brilliant person, and over the years she has helped me immensely in my work. She didn’t write for me, but she helped me find confidence in my writing, which was no small feat. No one could have accomplished what she and I had done, and I am proud of our achievements, but I think that a partnership needs to be something that feels good too, or at least tolerable. Success is meaningless if you can’t sleep at night because of harsh things said, petty secrets sharpened against hard and stony regret, just waiting to be plunged into the soft underbelly of a ‘friendship.’
Ultimately, I had to leave because she made me feel awful about myself, and she may have had valid points as to why I should feel awful, but I would rather live my life and accept myself as I am, and be happy, rather than be right or perfect according to someone else’s vision of me. I could never live up to the image she had of me, and because of that essential human weakness, she punished me constantly, hoping that it would somehow make me better, so that I would ‘wake up,’ but I was awake, and I was miserable. Her ‘training never sunk in. It just made me resentful and scared, fearful that I might accidentally let go and ‘be myself’ in her presence, and it made me hate her, which made me very sad, because it is tragic to have to resort to hating someone when you also really really love them, when they only care about your ‘best interests,’ when they spend so much time and energy and focus on you. I used to think I was bi, but I realize I am just “I.” I just want people to pay attention to me.
I am grieving the loss of a great friend, an incredible mentor, and an amazingly eloquent abusive parent. There are too many emotions to put into this already straining bag, bursting at the seams, every last pocket filled with happy and sad memories. I’ll need an emotionally strong porter for all this emotional baggage; they’ll need a cart for all these accomplishments and failures, awful things shouted that cannot be retracted, all the tears cried on the way to the courthouse, all the things promised yet never delivered, all my dreams that she crushed, all her dreams I crushed, everything that I wanted from her that she could not possibly give, all the things that I am not that she tried to make me into.
I am sorriest that I have to be faithful to myself, and that fidelity requires me to leave the person I love, who questions my love constantly; who tests my love constantly; who fears my love isn’t real; who belittles and demeans my love in order to prove my love; who shames my love because that is the only way she knows how to love; who throttles and trivializes my love because the way of her love is to hurt those you love, because for her, that is love; who makes me feel like there is something wrong with the way that I love; who doesn’t accept me as I love; who will never accept apologies or explanation or attempts to translate my love; who will only try to hurt me as she has been hurt because in her mind and in her heart this is loving.
I wish I were someone who could withstand all the abuse and torture with grace and equanimity, because I am sure it is meant to be good for me, but I just have all these darn feelings that get in the way. If only she knew how much pain this has caused me, she would stop trying to hurt me. But I don’t think it that is possible. How can you convey the desolation of the heart while walking away, unwilling to look back, but wanting to describe the color of loneliness, the taste of emptiness, without inciting the rage of the abandoned? If you know what I mean, I grieve for you, because we shouldn’t have to feel so bad, in order for our lives to be made better. Life is sad, unbearably so, and the choices we make, and must stand by, are often impossible ones.
Still, I can lie in this bed I have made, sleep in it soundly and well, knowing that these sheets wrapping me are woven from the absolute truth. My blankets, pride and self assurance and mindful awareness, pieced together like a big quilt, protect me and make me feel good about myself, my decisions, where I have been, where I am now and where I am going, and this bed is made just for one.