I recently had someone ask me to translate this post into English. These are feelings put into words and the words I used are exactly the words I needed. So I’ll try my best for the English version to be understood the way I wanted. Here we go:
I think I failed and surrendered to one of the most valuable virtues of life, patience. That attitude that helps when times are harsh. But I wasn’t alone. You gave up first. You didn’t give yourself time to digest life, nor did you appreciate that I was trying. Because it was too late, or because our goals were different. Because we were incompatible, like you used to say. But there was a time when we actually thought we were perfect for each other. So much that we created a family. You and I.
But time pulled us apart and it was hard to show you my happy, fun, chatty personality. I was sleep deprived, I gave it all to our children, and I tried to make the house look pristine for when you get back from work. You’d find relief that, at least there, everything remained perennial. That you could sit down and play the guitar and nobody was going to interrupt you. In the meantime, I kept taking care of our family. My only break was to lock myself in the bathroom and pretend I wasn’t feeling good. I’d stare at my phone and gossip other people that still enjoyed life -at least on social media.
You were walking away from me, or maybe I was. We would go to bed at different times, and there was no eye contact whatsover anymore. Don’t you remember when we used to eat chocolate under the moonlight? Or how hard we laughed when we almost missed that flight? Or that concert where you let me sit on your shoulders because I couldn’t see anything? Or how you used to kiss my back when I was asleep. I tried to start a “hug routine” every time we walked in or out of the house, but even that felt like an obligation. It was the only time that I had you close to me, the only time I felt that you were still mine. I asked for help, I swallowed my pride, I dragged you to counseling even though you always thought it was useless. I tried to find the moment to open my heart and ask you to understand me. That I was tired but that I was the same one, and that I still loved you. But your heart was closed. You closed it to me. And you turned around. Once again and every day. Month after month.
I meticulously planned that vacation week with the kids and without you. I did it so that you could rest. So you could think. And maybe miss us. But it didn’t happen, because you had already forgotten about me. About your children. About you, and about us. You were drinking to not feel, if you ever did. You forgot you were not alone. One week without me was not enough. We got back and everything felt the same. For you, not for me. Because within those 7 days, I met random people that praised me with their smile and kind words. Me, the same person you only gave cold, forced hugs. The same person you made cry everyday.
One morning, I opened the mailbox, almost 6 years after we met. And there they were, the divorce papers. I was shaking. I was scared of them but I kind of wanted them at the same time. We were still knowing each other, really. We didn’t give each other time. What is 6 years compared to the rest of our lives? There was no communication to fix anything. How do you fix something that is completely broken? You got tired of your life and decided to start a new one on your own. Because you forgot about us. Because it’s easier to get on the treadmill now and then, than preparing yourself for a marathon. There was no inner voice screaming “Run, your family is the prize“. There was nothing left. It is much easier to smile at someone for the first time than keeping the smile at difficult moments with the person you share your life with. Of course it is, and I don’t blame you. But wake up. In life, there are difficult moments and less-difficult moments. And the rainbows and butterflies are there, yeah, but you need patience. And you lost it. You lost it.
And I didn’t have any left. You took it all. And my tears. Our children will grow up without any memory of their parents being together, loving and supporting each other. Because perhaps that never happened. Perhaps you never loved me, perhaps I didn’t love you either. Everything was a lie. We were not perfect for each other, we never were.
I don’t regret anything, though, nor do I hate you or miss you. I haven’t forgotten who you are either, or who I am, or how easy or hard our life together was. I know that I will look back and I’ll be able to say that I lived fully, that I tried, and that a part of me stayed there, blank, with the retorical question of “What happened?!” Which way did we, directly or indirectly, choose to become this? Something we could have never imagined would describe us. But now it’s late, and maybe who I used to be doesn’t exist anymore. And will never come back. You were right when you asked me to stop begging you to be yourself again, because that you is gone too. Everybody changes. We get better or worse. We blossom or we fade.
And with time, you will realize that I was right, too. That you forgot about me. About you. About us.
But I… I am the same. Although I blossomed by losing you.