Throwaway Girlfriend

My current partner is very good at a lot of things, but one thing in particular is randomly pointing out just how easily my ex partner “kicked me to the curb” and “just threw me away“. Says she would never do that. Says that’s not what people do when they love each-other.

So…

Recently, and totally at my instigation and obvious unhappiness here in Barrie, we’ve been looking into moving to southern, less wintry parts of Ontario. We even considered Vancouver as Kate has family there, a new grandson she hasn’t met, and as everyone keeps telling me, “You’ll LOVE it there!” But, for reasons too numerous to mention, the Universe has clearly said NO.

Grumble.

Last week we had a talk about how few opportunities there are for me to do pretty much anything here in Barrie. It’s so spread out. You need to drive everywhere to get anywhere. I don’t drive. And the transit system here is merely a suggestion.

Winter is coming and the idea of being buried under 6 feet of snow for 5 months is starting to fucking stress me out.

It’s a thing.

During this conversation, I mentioned Toronto and it’s attributes. I could see she was getting agitated. Again. We’ve had this talk before. What can I say? Toronto is my home and will always be my home. I was born there. Have lived 3/4 of my life there. And I miss it. I have family, friends and familiarity there. And to be fair, I gave this Barrie-in-the-fucking-snow-belt thing a go. For three…going on four winters now. It just isn’t for me!

I want out.

She, on the other hand, is a small town girl and has lived much of her life here and in Alberta. She’s used to the long ass winters and mountains of snow. And hates the rush and noise and negative energy of the big city. Any big city. Especially Toronto. And I get it. I’m reaching the point in my life where I’m not super thrilled with the idea of fast-paced-big-city living either. But I also believe that wherever you live on this beautiful planet, YOU get to choose the pace of your life.

I don’t want the city rush and noise and negative energy back in my life, but I do want the feeling of connection. The feeling that I am a part of something. I don’t have that in Barrie. But I do have that in Toronto.

I also have independence.

Barrie has starved me socially. Isolated me physically. Nearly broken me spiritually. And I have to rely on Kate to take me everywhere and anywhere. A thing I am soooo not used to at all!

I hate it here.

And have, pretty much, from the moment I arrived.

She knows this.

Yet, last week when I mentioned Toronto for the umpteenth time, and all that it potentially has to offer, not just for me, but for her as well, she simply said, “Trish. If you need to go back to Toronto, then go.”

I gave her a look which couldn’t have said more clearly, “Reeeaaally???”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I have no desire to move back to Toronto.”

And that was that.

I knew this already. We’ve had this conversation before.

But I think what really surprised me this time around was the finality of her words. I really heard them. Maybe for the first time. She has said them to me before, but this time something rang different. Deeper. Truer. No room for negotiation. Whatsoever.

She said, “Trish. If you need to go back to Toronto, then go.”

But I heard, “I’ll love you as long as you stay here with me. Wherever here happens to be. But I will not love you in Toronto. If you need to go there, you’re on your own. Bye bye.”

And as I stood in the doorway watching her lying in bed, our eyes met in what felt like an unwavering challenge. A gauntlet had been thrown.

I mentally picked up the glove and studied it carefully.

Every scratch and scar and bump and bruise. The ragged rips neatly stitched back together. The leathery palm worn thin in places from endless emotional swordplay. The fingers soft enough for a lovers touch, but sharp in the slap of outrage. Yet the hidden lining remained bright and colorful, cleverly concealing the darkened stains of tearful betrayals.

I finally understood.

Throwaway girlfriend?

Fuck that shit.

Never. Ever. Again.

I am worth so much more than that.

 

 

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Privacy

So…

It seems giving your partner permission to read your blog as a sign of trust and faith, hoping beyond hope that she won’t ever use your personal musings and truths against you in any way, isn’t the wiser decision. I had hoped that in doing so, it would provide some assurance that my blog is no longer filled with sad laments over a love gone by…

I was wrong.

And now, as a fucked up kind of punishment, she has gone to her first radiation treatment without me. This is big. Bigger than I can express.

I’ve been here. At her side. Through her Cancer. From day one. From delivery of the news. Thru 2 hour surgery. Thru 5-hour post recovery. Thru holding puke buckets made out of party hats. Thru showing her beauty in her broken breasts. Kissed her jagged scars. Held her hand thru the fear. The doubt. Slowed her mind when it raced with dire “What if’s’… And reminded her constantly, that she is MORE than her Cancer. That SHE hasn’t changed. And is still a beautiful human being. Inside and out.

It hasn’t been an easy path for her. For either of us. And when she told me there was still time to run, a part of me wanted to. Out of fear. I’ve lost to Cancer before. It devastated me. But I didn’t run. I stayed. Figured if she could brave it out. So could I.

And now I am shut out.

Sigh.

I don’t know in this instant which is more upsetting. Being woken from sleep with accusation and anger from a post written at 10 and read at 2. Or being left out of the beginning stage of this extremely frightening-to-her, questionable healing.

Whether it’s just for today, out of anger. Or whether she decides to do the radiation treatments all on our own. Today marked a beginning of… something. I’ll still hold the puke party hats. Soothe her brow. Tell her she’s beautiful. Inside and out. And I will see her through this whether she wants me to or not. But today, there has been a shift.

I am way beyond sensible thought. Way beyond expressing my deeper feelings. I am overwhelmed. Dumbstruck. And hurt.

And all I have at this exact moment is this. My little blog. Which I realize now, has been spoiled for me twice over by the intimate sharing with my partners. Consciously or not.

I no longer write from my heart. I no longer speak from my soul. I curb. Control. And edit me relentlessly. I’ve almost stopped writing at all. I’ve killed it’s true intent. Which was writing meant for MY self-expression. I’ve missed the freedom I once had here. Lately, it’s felt like little by little myself is crumbling away. It’s time to reclaim this part of me at least. Here. Where I do have complete control. The rest will come with the therapy that starts in two weeks.

Ya…I’m finally going.

Ann, Stephen, Monster, Turtle, Stacey, Crystal, Tikeetha, Family Values, Daniel, Assentively, Dawn To Don, and any more of you who wish to follow me and continue with your much welcomed and needed input, I’ll send the password if you ask. First, I need to figure out the logistics of making this blog private. Shouldn’t be too difficult.

But for now…

I don’t need my truth used against me. I want my personal space back. I want me back. With all my flaws and angst and wordiness and emotionalism and crazy and love. I deserve that.

Time to make this blog private.

So be it.

5,4,3,2…done.