Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

They say that breaking up is hard to do. Neil Sedaka even sang a song with that title that I cannot help but mentally sing as I write this post. But they got it wrong. Breaking up is actually quite easy to do. One person says they are done with the relationship and the other can choose to either walk away gracefully or get upset but in the end, it is done. Snap!

It’s the aftermath that sucks. The moving on. The picking up the pieces.

In my case, the moving on began immediately for him. He ended our relationship so he could have sex with a teenage girl. My already shattered self esteem took another hit…I am approaching 40. I had gained weight. I no longer felt sexy. Desired. Wanted. Adding further insult to this? He and I had literally just signed another year lease so we were stuck with each other. His plan was for the two of us to stay living together as roommates the remaining 11 months of the lease but go our separate ways when it was up for renewal. I swallowed whatever pride I still had and agreed. And secretly thought our breakup could not possibly last.

But it did. And now it is time for me to finally move on. The year is up. I announced last night I was moving out. Moving away. A HUGE part of me hoped he would beg me to stay. That this year somehow proved to him that women his own age are better than teenagers still living at home. He didn’t. I shamelessly asked whether we would still hang out (I sill planned to come back to the city every now and then) but he gave a vague “maybe someday” answer that pretty well means that he and I will never see each other again. I could lie and say I wasn’t hurt. But I can’t. It hurt. And I think I am finally able to admit…heartbroken.

So…

Now, I am starting to pack my belongings and pick up the broken pieces of not only my heart but my pride. I found a place. It’s 800 miles from here. I am excited and sad at the same time. He barely speaks to me now. Looks at me with contempt. It hurts. I woke early this morning and stared at him while he slept. In my bed. Peacefully. I am strengthened with the knowledge he will soon be sleeping on the floor as the bed is mine and traveling with me. It is petty but I will take what I can get!

I long for a hug or a smile letting me know the last four years meant something. Ugh. Now, I am starting to cry…sheech! And maybe, someday he will realize it did. My hope is that he does before he commits to somebody else and learns.. .grows. Because despite everything, I want him to be happy.

And so I am finally…FINALLY…choosing to hold my head high and walk away gracefully.

Will We Still Be Friends?

Friends? Lovers? Enemy? Roommates? Someone I barely know? Someone I once knew? Labels. Labels are a relationship nightmare. Where do I put someone in my life of labels? Why do we feel compelled to label everyone we know? Does it really matter?

I came to a difficult realization the other day while talking with my father. I have no friends in the city I currently live in. None. I have exactly two friends in this world. One is my best friend who knows every single ugly dark secret of mine and still chooses to remain close. And an ex boyfriend of mine who broke my heart but did so for the right reason…love. I do not speak to either very often but know that time will never diminish our friendship.

My current ex and I are now at the labeling crossroads. Where do we put each other? I desperately want to label him friend. I wish this was the best and right choice. I worry it is not. For the past four plus years, he became my everything…friend, roommate, lover and even enemy at times. Yet, now that the sun is officially setting on our living arrangement experiment, I am facing the very real question of whether he was ever a friend to me at all.

I think back to our time together. The good, the bad and the sometimes very ugly. We hung out and did things he enjoys, went places he wanted to go and ate at the restaurants he preferred. But never anything I wanted or enjoyed. Truthfully, I am not sure he even knows my favorite color. Blue, by the way. His is green. He justifies not knowing everything because he doesn’t like to talk yet is able to have long conversations with others because “they are (his) friends.” What the hell am I? Sorry. Correction: was. He finally admitted last month that the only reason he moved into my apartment was because it was convenient. Ouch.

This label should be easy. Someone I once knew. Yet, it is not. Because like I said, for over four years, he was everything to me. I tolerated so much. I changed so much. I tried to please him so much that I cannot fathom it being for nothing. Friends? Anyone looking at this relationship would shake their head at the idea. So why can’t I?

Five years from now, I know I can call my two friends and cry to them about a loss, laugh with them about a mistake and know both will be there and neither will judge. Will he? Probably not. He is hardly here now. Yet, I am having the worst time labeling him. And perhaps it is time I realized and more importantly admitted…I am struggling with letting him go.

Move Over, I’m Crowded

I have a confession. I’m selfish.

Ok, maybe not a huge secret to some of those who know me well but now I am announcing it to the world and I am no longer making excuses. I am a selfish bitch.

Ahh, if only it were that simple. Sure, I can admit to my childhood memories of absolutely HATING to share my toys. Seriously. Thankfully, my family recognized this early and opted to buy multiples of everything so my little sister had toys of her own! I can only imagine what might have happened otherwise. Shaking my head and laughing nervously. And while I recognize this is not something I should necessarily be proud of, I believe we as a society should perhaps BE MORE SELFISH.

Here me out.

Do you remember that cute song we learned as children where a bunch of bears are trying to sleep on the same bed? The little one on the end keeps announcing (complaining/whining) he is crowded and so they all roll over to give him room and the one on the other end falls off? Not sure whatever happens to the pile of bears on the floor but eventually the one bear has the bed to himself. And then he is lonely. It is a lesson in selfishness to be sure. But perhaps the crowded bed prevented the obvious…nobody could stretch out and get comfortable.

Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree is another example of teaching children to give back and not be selfish. “She loved a little boy very, very much. Even more than she loved herself.” The tree gave and gave parts of herself to show the boy how much she loved him until she literally sacrificed her life to please him. It’s heartbreaking and beautiful at the same time.

I think women (and a few men) will mightily agree they have at some point been the Giving Tree in the relationship. I know I have. I happily gave myself to him sexually, readily changed my appearance for him (quit wearing makeup, stopped working out, no longer dressed the way I preferred and even changed my diet) because he didn’t like this or preferred that and eventually became someone I no longer recognize. I don’t blame him entirely. I allowed it to happen. But in the effort to keep the status quo of my relationship, I gave.

Ironically, and psychologically not surprising, the woman I became was not somebody either or us found attractive. He broke up with me for somebody who resembles who I used to be. And now I have options…remain the weak, quiet shell of my former self or reclaim my sassy, outspoken self I once was. Obviously, (or I wouldn’t have this blog) I chose the later.

Now, I am not suggesting we all become selfish assholes. I simply want you to know it is ok to stand up for yourself. Put your foot down before you are pushed off the bed or chopped down. There should be a balance. Give and take. I was so hell bent to prove that I wasn’t selfish that I nearly destroyed my self esteem. Please, learn from me. It’s not easy to get back.

So…here I am. Reclaiming my toys. My bed. Myself. I am officially saying, “move over, I’m crowded.”

Hi. My name is Erin and this is my blog… Reclaiming My Bed

First, please let me say, WELCOME to this site. I am not different than anyone else in my “boyfriend dumped me and now I am starting over” situation except that this is my story and like everyone in this world, I am unique and so is this story.

My boyfriend and I moved into a new apartment after already living together for a couple of years. He was forced to transfer to another location for work and we decided it made sense to move closer to his job so he could bike to work rather than have me ferry him back and forth the 30 miles (his car wasn’t working). Of course, that left me commuting those 30 miles but that is another story. Regardless, we moved. And less than a month later, he dumped me.

His reasoning was simple. He wanted to have sex with someone and that somebody was not me. Kudos, I suppose, for breaking up with me prior to cheating but nothing is simple in life and this situation is far from simple. See, we signed a year lease and were barely a month into it. His idea was that we would live together in our small one bedroom apartment for the duration of the lease and go about our lives separately. Easier said than done.

We still hang out. Still go to the bar. Out to eat. Go to concerts. Basically, nothing changed except he is guilt free to have sex and still come home to me. And then sleep in my bed. MY bed. And…I gotta say, it is absolute torture. Hence, the title of this blog!!

Now, I cannot say I am innocent. I definitely made mistakes in my life and I am certain karma is paying me back for some of it because I actually deserve some retribution. Uhhhh, more on that another time! And, for the most part, I have been patiently waiting for this weird year to end. I take the fighting, the secrets and being blamed for absolutely everything wrong in our lives without much complaint. Why? I decided taking the high ground was the smart approach to this. Does it make me look weak? Perhaps. Multiple years of emotional abuse does that to a person. But here is the thing…I learned. I grew.

So, here it is …nearly a year of awkward nights coming to an end. I am finally able to start over and mentally move on. I decided this blog will be a public diary and therefore my accountability to starting over and moving on. My rebuilding my self esteem and proving to myself that I survived. This is my journey. Enjoy the ride.

With love,

e