Post by nostuntdouble on Aug 25, 2017 5:14:59 GMT
(My ex will never see this, but I needed to write it for my own closure).
Dear DA ex-partner,
It’s been three months since we ended our eight-year relationship, and one week since I first heard the term ‘dismissive avoidant’.
My heart is so heavy.
And I’m sorry. Not ‘sorry’ as in ‘I want to apologise’, but ‘sorry’ as in ‘I’m sorry things have to be this way for you’.
I’m sorry because I loved you, and I still do. Because you did the very best you could to love me back, but your mind was never going to let you. Because you showed great courage and took a chance, only to fail. Because you have never heard of DA, and most likely never will, so your actions were as confusing to you as they were to me.
I’m sorry because, knowing no better, I blamed myself for your betrayals and hounded you until you told me ‘I did those hurtful things because I’m a bad person, and it had nothing to do with you’. Because you were so lonely when we met, and now you are lonely again. Because our experience has not helped you, but instead led you to an awful place where you cannot even contemplate a relationship, with me or anyone else.
I’m sorry because of all the people you have met in your life, I was the one you chose to reach out to, and when you ‘hurt’ me, I didn’t understand why, so I hurt you back, harshly and often. Because I defended myself against what I saw as your emotional abuse. Because when you backed away, I came after you, time and time again, and instead of providing re-assurance, my actions drove you to place where your protective boundaries were threatened and were unable to voice a fear you did not understand.
I’m sorry because you have to go through life this way… forced to be lonely, imprisoned, shut-off and self-contained so you don’t hurt anyone else. Because you have to miss the richness and joy of a loving and stable relationship due to forces beyond your control.
And I’m sorry because I didn’t know any of this before we spent eight years damaging each other irreparably.
If a friend told me they were tolerating the type of behaviour I put up with from you, I would tell them to run and never look back. But for some reason, your acting out never seemed malicious. I could never quite put my finger on it, but I instinctively knew that you never harmed me on purpose. You just could not seem to help or explain it.
The warning signs were there early on. As soon as we became physically intimate, something horrible overtook you. You pushed me away, accused me of cheating, accused me of being immoral, judged me for caring about you, then when I could stand it no longer and needed a break, you tried right away to meet other people online.
I hated you for that. And every time we argued, you did it again. You ignored me and turned to porn, dating sites, live cam sex, even getting a new phone just to talk to the people you met online. I saw you as a liar and a cheat. I just didn’t know that these were your defences… that you had to dilute our intimacy so you could cope.
I made you miserable for years with my lack of trust. I berated you over and over. I became insecure, needy, demanding and histrionic. I barely recognised the anxious, suspicious, cruel and manipulative person I had become. My self-esteem was smashed. I said, did and tolerated things that I look back on in utter disgust.
I belittled you over your inability to make life plans. Over your failure to leave your parents’ home even though you were in your 30’s. Over your reluctance to learn to drive. Over your crippling indecision. Over your inability follow through and build the life with me you that claimed to want desperately. Over your ‘man-child’ existence that involved utter apathy towards me and any future plans.
I threatened you. I left you. I poured rivers of my reactive emotional pain onto you while you were already silently drowning. I called you cold, manipulative, disloyal, immoral, shallow, apathetic, selfish, cruel, untrustworthy and immature. And based solely on your actions, and according to ‘normal’ people, you are all of those things. But they are all traits that came out under emotional pressure, while you battled to find your way in a landscape you could not understand. When your safety zone was breached, you reacted in the only way you could. And you’re not happy about it. You’re not proud of it. It simply is what it is.
And even though not a single person alive would look at the cold hard facts of this relationship and tell me I was wrong to be angry or right to stay for so long, I am slowly making peace with what happened between us. You spent decades alone because you feared you would hurt someone, and you didn’t want that. But you were lonely, and you tried for companionship. And I believe you tried your best.
You fought hard for this. For us. I know you did. And I’m thankful. It is only in hindsight that I understand how much I asked of you, and how much you gave me at great cost to yourself.
And you are the best person you can be. In many ways, you are a better person than I am. There is so much good in you. You’re self-sufficient. You’re independent. You’re gainfully employed despite the challenges it brings you. Your detachment allows you to provide wise and accurate council. Your impartiality gives you a high level of clarity that I appreciate and value. Your utter and unflinching honesty, although painful at times, is a true rarity in this world. You are also blindingly intelligent, incredibly creative, riotously funny and doggedly loyal.
You supported me while my heart broke when my dog died. You tended my wounds after I had surgery. You bought me generous and thoughtful gifts. You stayed up late with me when I was sad or lonely. You came to my side at a moment’s notice when I needed you. You listened to me. And yes, you loved me, in your own way, in the best way you could.
I still love you. Oh, how I love you. Even more now that I understand the mountain of sh*t you had to scale to try and love me. I know how hard you tried.
And I’m thankful. And I will always have regrets. But you are no longer one of them.
I hope life brings you peace.
Dear DA ex-partner,
It’s been three months since we ended our eight-year relationship, and one week since I first heard the term ‘dismissive avoidant’.
My heart is so heavy.
And I’m sorry. Not ‘sorry’ as in ‘I want to apologise’, but ‘sorry’ as in ‘I’m sorry things have to be this way for you’.
I’m sorry because I loved you, and I still do. Because you did the very best you could to love me back, but your mind was never going to let you. Because you showed great courage and took a chance, only to fail. Because you have never heard of DA, and most likely never will, so your actions were as confusing to you as they were to me.
I’m sorry because, knowing no better, I blamed myself for your betrayals and hounded you until you told me ‘I did those hurtful things because I’m a bad person, and it had nothing to do with you’. Because you were so lonely when we met, and now you are lonely again. Because our experience has not helped you, but instead led you to an awful place where you cannot even contemplate a relationship, with me or anyone else.
I’m sorry because of all the people you have met in your life, I was the one you chose to reach out to, and when you ‘hurt’ me, I didn’t understand why, so I hurt you back, harshly and often. Because I defended myself against what I saw as your emotional abuse. Because when you backed away, I came after you, time and time again, and instead of providing re-assurance, my actions drove you to place where your protective boundaries were threatened and were unable to voice a fear you did not understand.
I’m sorry because you have to go through life this way… forced to be lonely, imprisoned, shut-off and self-contained so you don’t hurt anyone else. Because you have to miss the richness and joy of a loving and stable relationship due to forces beyond your control.
And I’m sorry because I didn’t know any of this before we spent eight years damaging each other irreparably.
If a friend told me they were tolerating the type of behaviour I put up with from you, I would tell them to run and never look back. But for some reason, your acting out never seemed malicious. I could never quite put my finger on it, but I instinctively knew that you never harmed me on purpose. You just could not seem to help or explain it.
The warning signs were there early on. As soon as we became physically intimate, something horrible overtook you. You pushed me away, accused me of cheating, accused me of being immoral, judged me for caring about you, then when I could stand it no longer and needed a break, you tried right away to meet other people online.
I hated you for that. And every time we argued, you did it again. You ignored me and turned to porn, dating sites, live cam sex, even getting a new phone just to talk to the people you met online. I saw you as a liar and a cheat. I just didn’t know that these were your defences… that you had to dilute our intimacy so you could cope.
I made you miserable for years with my lack of trust. I berated you over and over. I became insecure, needy, demanding and histrionic. I barely recognised the anxious, suspicious, cruel and manipulative person I had become. My self-esteem was smashed. I said, did and tolerated things that I look back on in utter disgust.
I belittled you over your inability to make life plans. Over your failure to leave your parents’ home even though you were in your 30’s. Over your reluctance to learn to drive. Over your crippling indecision. Over your inability follow through and build the life with me you that claimed to want desperately. Over your ‘man-child’ existence that involved utter apathy towards me and any future plans.
I threatened you. I left you. I poured rivers of my reactive emotional pain onto you while you were already silently drowning. I called you cold, manipulative, disloyal, immoral, shallow, apathetic, selfish, cruel, untrustworthy and immature. And based solely on your actions, and according to ‘normal’ people, you are all of those things. But they are all traits that came out under emotional pressure, while you battled to find your way in a landscape you could not understand. When your safety zone was breached, you reacted in the only way you could. And you’re not happy about it. You’re not proud of it. It simply is what it is.
And even though not a single person alive would look at the cold hard facts of this relationship and tell me I was wrong to be angry or right to stay for so long, I am slowly making peace with what happened between us. You spent decades alone because you feared you would hurt someone, and you didn’t want that. But you were lonely, and you tried for companionship. And I believe you tried your best.
You fought hard for this. For us. I know you did. And I’m thankful. It is only in hindsight that I understand how much I asked of you, and how much you gave me at great cost to yourself.
And you are the best person you can be. In many ways, you are a better person than I am. There is so much good in you. You’re self-sufficient. You’re independent. You’re gainfully employed despite the challenges it brings you. Your detachment allows you to provide wise and accurate council. Your impartiality gives you a high level of clarity that I appreciate and value. Your utter and unflinching honesty, although painful at times, is a true rarity in this world. You are also blindingly intelligent, incredibly creative, riotously funny and doggedly loyal.
You supported me while my heart broke when my dog died. You tended my wounds after I had surgery. You bought me generous and thoughtful gifts. You stayed up late with me when I was sad or lonely. You came to my side at a moment’s notice when I needed you. You listened to me. And yes, you loved me, in your own way, in the best way you could.
I still love you. Oh, how I love you. Even more now that I understand the mountain of sh*t you had to scale to try and love me. I know how hard you tried.
And I’m thankful. And I will always have regrets. But you are no longer one of them.
I hope life brings you peace.
