This, too
People always try to find comfort in times of pain and suffering by reciting the wisdom that all things are temporary. This is just a moment in a collection of many moments. This, too, shall pass.
We count upon the passage of time to bring the ebb. We look forward to the day that the pain is not so great as it was before, hoping that tomorrow it will be less. We let life slip by, waiting to live, never understanding that we are living with pain because life goes on, regardless. This, too, shall pass. Life is transitory.
It's not just pain. Pleasure is also temporary. Happiness passes, as well.
I spoke to Mac on the phone tonight. It was his first opportunity to address what happened over the weekend. He had no time for my martyrdom and drama--translated: my hurt feelings over his aberrant behavior.
It was painful. He yelled at me, and called me a retard. He discounted my feelings and dismissed my concerns. He blustered about what a good person he is and how far off-base I was to be offended by his actions. He gave me ultimatums. He accused me of making up conflicts so that I could spend time with D. He hung up on me, shouting about how intolerable I am.
That was the easy part of the conversation.
He called back, and apologized. He apologized for hanging up and said he wouldn't get so defensive if he didn't care about what I thought of him. He said he didn't want me to break up with him, and asked me what he would have to do to make me feel better about him.
I cried. I cried because of the tremendous effort it takes to get over the inertia. He's been around forever, it seems. There were always problems. Lots of little issues, here and there, and I did my best to overlook them all until I was nearly blind. His personality drew out the worst parts of mine, and I hated who I was with him. But I was with him, nonetheless. And, of course, there was the sex. When it was good, it was very good.
It wasn't always good. So it was, with us. And though I had made up my mind on Sunday, I promised Mac that I would think about it for a few days. I imagine that I will think about it for a lot longer, but I can't change my mind. I need to heal. I need to get on with life.
I need to stock up on batteries, because it's already going on three weeks and I have a much shorter shelf-life than that. If I have to wait much longer, I'm going to go bad.
This, too, shall pass!