Okay, now I’m angry at him. I love him, and he knew it. We used to have mock arguments over who loved who more. Which I usually won by pointing out all the crap he’d put me through, and the fact that I was still there. He cannot have doubted my love for him.
So how could he do this to me? If the situation had been reversed, he NEVER would have walked away from me to save himself the trouble. So how come he thought I’d be okay with it?
It’s been over two months. I’m still miserable, I still catch myself thinking he’ll come home, I still cry a LOT…how the hell can he have thought this would be better for me?
The answer is, he didn’t. He didn’t think of me much at all. He thought he’d be happier, and he told himself those damn lies depressed people somehow manage to believe for just a little too long–they’ll be better off without me, they deserve better, she’ll find someone new, I can’t stop hurting them…
I’ve tried to turn him into a martyr for the cause. Not a saint, no matter how much I was hurting, I never could have done that with a straight face–but a martyr. He died for us. But the truth is, he died of the same problems that plagued his life–impatience, a talent for melodrama, and the inability to truly think things through. My poor, sad, misguided idiot of a love.
That doesn’t excuse the apathetic bureaucrats who let him get to the point he could convince himself to leave me. And it doesn’t mean anyone else has a right to be angry with him. He THOUGHT he was doing it for us. I will get over my anger, and remember his intentions. But I doubt I’ll ever be able to hear someone else criticize him.