Last night, said love of my life let me know he is unhappy in this relationship. He has been struggling with this by himself for the last couple of months and sees no positive way out of this. So the inevitable happened, we broke up. There was no fighting, no screaming, just tears and the dim realisation that the life we build over the past decade had come to an end.
This immense grief feels similar to the death of my mother, almost six years ago. Back then I gathered as many people as possible around me, now I want just one and he made it clear he doesn’t want me. He said we’ve changed away from each other, something I see as a great strenght and accomplishment, because in this process we never tried to change each other. He just sees the immense gap.
We have changed, I know this to be true. The way I am now handeling this crappy situation proves just that. I feel some sort of rest and justification in the fact that he is unhappy and above all I don’t want him to be unhappy, especially not if I am the one making him feel that way. To me, it is a very legitimate reason to put an end to things.
Should he have talked to me sooner, let me know what he tried to solve on his own when it concerned the both of us? Yes, off course! Can I change that it happened this way? No, I can’t, so there is no point in screwing myself up over this.
I am writing this with dry eyes, having shed my share of tears already. However, I do not have the illusion I’m all cried out. Maybe this is a form of self preservation and I am just in denial while thinking I am handling this well. Who knows, time will tell.