The End

How? How can something that appeared to be so great and perfect end so suddenly? So suddenly that even the people around me had the wind knocked out of them?

There is no simple answer. There never is.

I could go into a monologue, detailing specific instances that might shed some light on such an abrupt end. But is it really important to anyone but me? And if not, is it important enough to me to relive here?


To spare us both, I will try to turn the muddled intricacies into a more clean-cut summary:

Sean could not swallow the idea of marriage and what he thought that meant.

This was for better and for worse. I know this. All the "better than after the altar" sentiments are well-intentioned but seem ironic because that was the issue in the first place. But yes, to have successfully dragged him down the aisle only to find out he was consumed with dread the whole way would've been...just...can you even imagine the heartache...if it's anything like what I'm trying to survive now...sweet Jesus, no.

What I'm going to say next is not meant as an insult or offense in any way; Sean has admitted this openly, so it is safe for me to repeat here: Sean has a...unique...view of relationships. And we both had to find out exactly how unique...the hard way.

The hard way being two years full of memories and pictures (oh my goodness, so many pictures) and emails and texts before the truth was blurted out when I demanded an answer.

I know something about me...I know that I can struggle with patience. Especially when I don't understand something. I want more information so I can understand so I can take the next step so I can feel productive. And I know that as time wore on, I was impatient with him. I couldn't understand his outlook or why it was so bleak. And he told me that he didn't understand where his outlook came from or what influenced it, that it was just there and that he knew it was messed up. And that "something" that he couldn't explain made me feel like I wasn't worth it.

I know he tried to push himself past it sometimes. But when you believe a certain way for so long...it's hard to let it go. It is uncomfortable and it is risky. And, from personal experience, that is scary. Even when evidence might be staring you in the face. Evidence does not equal comfortable. Knowledge and feelings...well, those are two very different things. And Logic cannot simply flip the Feelings switch.

And this was so, so hard for me. To be doing and showing and "proving"...and to know that his head and his heart were watching, but not convinced. Doing, showing, and proving turned into explaining, persuading, and convincing. "See? I'm still here! We may not agree on _________, but I still love you. See? If you could maybe try talking to me about _________, you'll see it's not so bad. See? There's so much good here. See...?"

And sometimes he caught a glimpse of it. And it was interesting to watch the mixture of relief and surprise pass over his face. And he would tell me he loved me and things would align again. And sometimes...most times I felt like I didn't know what else to do to remove the doubt. And then I would, in my exasperation, ask him what more he wanted. And he didn't have an answer for me because who ever has an answer to that question?

Not seeing eye-to-eye on something made Sean very uncomfortable. To the point of shutting down, retreating. And it was nearly impossible to talk about anything relationship-oriented: "serious" issues, seeing eye-to-eye, or even the lovey stuff. Because communication was an admitted devastatingly weak point for him. And, unfortunately, I didn't know how to handle that without talking about it. It was exaggerated by the tragic fact that my love language is Words of Affirmation. This difference reared its head often...and left Sean distressed and me very hurt.

And that discomfort finally outweighed our past victories and all of our potential. And, given his specific personality, retreating from it was the only thing I think he knew to do...

I asked him to stop telling me he loved me and to tell me what he wanted.

"We're not good right now....I don't think it's going to work..."

And on Wednesday, July 17, 2013, on my lunch hour, everything stopped...but me.