My Red Flags

Just got out of the therapy appointment with Dr. D. There were tissues this week--four or five of them I think. It was a good session, though. I needed a little jump start and clarity to some of the things that have been swirling around in my head so who better than your therapist for that?

I guess when he'd asked me about "red flags" last time he was thinking less of the red flags I would see externally in the other person and more in my reaction to their behavior. For instance, what made me make so many excuses for Michael for so long? And how will I recognize myself doing it in the future. It is like asking addicts how many times they promised themselves they would stop. How many excuses could I make before making them stop?

Well, let's see...my internal red flags. Why did I make excuses for him?

1. I wanted to believe him when he told me he was just out with the guys
2. I wanted to believe that he was faithful to me.
3. I felt some sense of understanding and guilt that I had questioned our relationship in the past.
4. I felt in some way some twisted responsibility for what he'd done (maybe--he implied it but when asked always said it was entirely his fault)
5. Fundamentally, I made excuses because I wasn't sure what was fair to expect from him and from a relationship in general.

Relationships are hard work; they are not perfect; sometimes you want to strangle the other person; sometimes you just want them to go away for a while. But under it all--under it all--you love them enough to put in the work; to put up with the imperfections; to not strangle them; to stick it out when things get tough.

And so where do you draw the line? Somewhere in between where I drew it with Michael--that level of excuse and forgiveness and work and hurt and imperfection is just not acceptable--and the fairy tale. I guess that is the short answer. I guess I am supposed to figure it out.

I don't expect the fairy tale anymore. I don't expect to be treated the way I have allowed myself to be treated over the past months and years either.

We were happy together for a time, content, with rare blissful moments. I would like more of the blissful; content is fine, but none of the deceit, and much less of the hurt.

I want to be that couple that you see walking down the street who you can just tell adore each other. My brother, C. and his girlfriend are like that. I hope that's not unfair to expect. I think it's hard to find, hopefully not impossible.

I want to be the old couple going for walks on sunny days who just chat and hold hands and care for each other and listen to the same voice they have heard for 50 years that never gets old.


He wouldn't have been that person. He brought me down.

Like last night. I was in a good mood; he was in a bad mood. So he yells at me and blames me for things and tells me that he didn't want to get into anything. Neither did I. It was ridiculous. He just called to say good night. Shocking that he even followed through with that--I think it was just because I threatened to show up at his door if he didn't call.

He's pretty much a jerk, really. Everyone I talk to now who knew both of us never understood why we were together to begin with. We were so different; he was so grumpy (which I thought was more shy...and still may be) and I was more cheerful (generally...at least that's what most people except him saw).

My therapist asked how often I still call him, "A few times a day, but he only picks up about once every other day."

"Maybe he waits to pick up until he is grumpy." He half-jokes.

"Maybe. Yeah, wouldn't that be great. But really I think he's just grumpy all the time these days."

There are times, coming more frequently, when I feel better without him.

When my parents were here in February, my Dad drew me a graph of my emotions. Over the course of my relationship with Michael it was basically an up and down course with a squiggly line until we got to the cheating/fighting ugliness where it took a huge dive and stayed down for a while (as he was drawing this that was still very much were I was--at the bottom of the pit). Then he said it would start to climb back up and my baseline of strength and confidence in myself would be higher than it was in the middle of our relationship. Then I would meet someone wonderful and it would just shoot up exponentially off the graph. So anyway, he called the pit, the "implementation dip." The worse before the better. And now I'm starting to feel more of the better. I'm not sure that I'm at the higher baseline yet, but I think I'm getting closer.

We (Dr. D. and I) also talked about how I envision how Michael and I will say goodbye when we leave for good. I said I thought it would be very sad. Tears and all. Then we would talk a when we got to our respective coasts. The talking would become less and less and things would just fizzle out.

He warned me again to not expect any sort of emotional goodbye scene from Michael. And hoped that I didn't need or want that from him.

"I think I do want that." I said as I thought about the scene in my head, "I guess I'll have to figure out how to not expect that."

"Well, or more precisely just be able to accept whatever happens from his end. Because it's not that you don't deserve or want that closure; it's just that I would be worried about basing any of that scene on his role in it."

I pause, thinking, "You're probably right. He more than likely will react with minimal emotion." I'll have to work to prepare myself for that.

Earlier we'd talked about why we hadn't said goodbye before. I did go over there on Friday to say goodbye and every time I do that, Michael sucks me back in. Despite saying it is too emotional to see me and that he doesn't have time and what is the point anyway...

So I ask him, "So do you not want to see each other anymore?" I mean, really, let's be clear here.

"I want to see you. We'll see each other again."

I think more and more that he just doesn't know how to say goodbye. He's afraid of it. He can't picture it...the reality of it is too much for him. Just like the reality of me matching in San Diego almost crushed him...almost crushed him into realizing more and more what he'd done and what he'd lost and how truly awful he has and is behaving.

"When? When will we see each other again?"

"I don't know."

"I leave in less than five weeks...for good. We're out of time."

"I'm really busy right now. Presentation, condo closing, moving, etc."

"So when?"

"I don't know. I'll call you. Not tonight. We'll see each other though...when I'm ready."

That's crap. "When you're ready? No. No. You don't get to call the shots." He pushes me much more and he's pushing me right out...for good.

But there we go, I forgave him again. Red Flag. Red Flag. Red Flag--now I know.

"So you'll call me tomorrow?" I ask, annoyed but still wanting to be the nice one and the bigger person in this tangle of emotion and anger.

"Yes, I'll call you tomorrow." He sounds relieved to have an excuse to get off the phone.

"Okay. Good night. I miss you."

"I miss you, too, Shawna. Good night. Bye."

Ugh! So then I'm all hurt/mad again and it's late and I wanted to get to bed earlier. Frustrating. And I have other people who mean much more to me who I need to care for. I was glad to be off the phone, too.

What I miss, I think, is becoming less and less him and more just that sort of love you feel when you are in a relationship like that. I really enjoy loving someone in that way. And I miss the physical comfort of someone there. As I fell asleep last night, I had enough klonapin on board to imagine that I was holding his hand like we used to when we'd sleep together. That's all I wanted. Someone there to love and hold hands...but not just anyone...that's the hard part. Someone who can love me as much as I can love him (the as yet unknown him, not Michael anymore).