Dear John,
So I think I may have figured it out. I’ve been having a really difficult time for the last 6 months or so, figuring out why I have such strong feelings against my ex. Every time I would see him on my news feed I’d get annoyed. Every time I’d see him do something I can’t help but be critical of him. It’s safe to say I have very ill feelings towards him.
So here’s the deal, as I’ve said before it wasn’t the cleanest of breakups-mostly due to him. I tried desperately to not lose him as a friend and ended up just constantly breaking his heart. I finally realized something though: That whole relationship was about him.
It was about being the girl of his dreams. It was about him finding someone to take away his pain. Him finding a mother for his daughter. His feelings. And the thing is… it was like that even in the months following the break up. It was about hurting him as little as possible, making sure I didn’t lead him on. I was walking on eggshells for such a long time and I didn’t even realize it. Even after we went are separate ways and stopped speaking… I was still checking with friends to make sure he was okay.
I spent so much time trying to make sure that he healed from the break up, that I didn’t even give myself a chance.
I guess.. subconsciously… it was easier to be mad at him… then to really take a close look at how it affected me. And it’s funny, because after the break up, so many other friends started pointing out things that I never saw. Like that he didn’t really treat me like a queen-that he actually talked down to me a lot. And then I started to realize things. Like that he wasn’t being fair when he put all his hopes on me. And that, simply put, he should of known better. That he did know better, but simply ignored it. That 90% of the pain we suffered… was due to him.
It wasn’t fair to me. It just wasn’t.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that I didn’t do anything wrong. I mean in a lot of ways I knew early on that I should have gotten out before things got heavy, and instead I stayed. But I was 19 and he was 24. He knew better.
I guess what I’m saying is… between making sure he was okay, and the revelations that made me so mad at him… I just never gave myself a chance to heal. Maybe it’s not something I can do on my own… maybe it’s something that requires the love of someone else. I really don’t know. I just hope, that these ill feelings go away some day. I hope one day I can be happy for him-no matter happens.
