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Second guessing again


SixOfOne

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As I said in some previous posts, my ex wanted to be friends but it was too painful for me because I'm still in love and she's not. So as advised by some of the good people on this site, I broke that off with her but said she should get in touch if she ever considers reconciliation. That was four days ago and I still have much grieving to do, but every day is a bit better. My question is: why was it a good idea to leave the door open for her? Why is it a good idea to allow her to think I'm hers for the taking if/when things don't work out for her in the dating world? My gut tells me it's the right thing to do, my heart hopes to hear from her again someday, but my brain says I'm a real dumba$$.

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I'll try to answer your core question first.

 

Why was it a good idea? Well, it was your truth, best you could understand it, when you expressed it. And even at our most vulnerable, even when our truth is a thin, nearly hopeless hope, I think there is freedom—and ultimately strength—in expressing it.

 

Personal story: When my ex and I broke up, around 2 years ago, I very much wanted to get back together. Different circumstances, as I was, at least technically, the one to end it. But that came after four very hard months in which every attempt to stop the downward spiral fell short. Knowing her, and the place we were in, it's not hard to imagine that corrosive dynamic extending another four months, if not years. But my threshold for that stuff—for losing my center—is only so high. I have a near immunity to losing myself in another person, could feel it happening, and pressed the red button.

 

Still, I wanted back together. Probably I hoped that's what breaking up would trigger in her, something to cut through the fog and make her truth my truth. So, yeah, my hard truth was that I wanted back together. Mind you, if I'd been posting the circumstances of it all here everyone would be telling me my truth was a delusional, unhealthy truth. They'd be right—wisdom that would seep into me soon enough. But it was my truth at the time, so when she reached out to me in vague, confusing ways in the aftermath I let her know in no uncertain language: that the only conversation I was up for having was one of reconciliation, something I very much wanted and was there for.

 

I can spin a me-as-dumba$$ narrative of that moment. Name a way a person can be disrespectful to another person and she'd done it over four months—a statement that would have held true before I learned there was two infidelities. And my own shortcomings in that union were pretty award-winning too. So, yeah, there I was, heart on sleeve, door opened to...that. But, hey, it was my truth. No shame in that.

 

Time changed that truth—pretty quickly. Deep down, I think, I knew there was a greater truth: that we were over, for so many reasons, and I had to ride it out. I can't remember exactly when I knew it wouldn't matter if she called me up and said she wanted back together. Probably 5 months. Was still grieving then, but I wasn't holding on. Not even sure if I made the choice to let go. More like the truth just changed, fell more in sync with the big, deeper truth, if that makes sense.

 

It's a process, a slow one, a hard one. Speaking for myself, it was also a needed one that I'm grateful to have had. Shattered some parts of me that needed shattering, so I could rebuild them with some different materials. There were occasional pokes from her along the way, but they didn't get under my skin too much and I think that's because I'd set a hard boundary—that heart-on-sleeve moment turned out to be a needed step, for me. I'd bite at one thing—a clear expression of wanting reconciliation—and only that thing. Never came, and I'm lucky for that, as even flirting with that path would have been a disaster.

 

There's often a lot of talk about the gap between the heart and the head in these matters, but I think that's a misnomer. It's all head, really. It's the head spinning wild stories to soothe the heart, which is poetry for saying it's the ego. That doesn't negate the love and the hurt, the reality of it. Letting go of the ego just makes the hurt and the love the only story—a thing that worked, until it didn't, and will just suck until it doesn't.

 

Long answer to your post, I know. Maybe I'm encouraging you to take the long view here. Four days is four seconds in the skewed thing that is heartache time, just like a few weeks of "change for the better" is an unconvincing blink. People do get back together, but not in the state you're in now. And people do recover from heartache, but not by staying tethered to the person causing the ache. Those two things are connected—even when the end result isn't reconciliation.

 

I didn't get back together but I got exactly what I wanted when I expressed the desire: freedom, security, selfhood, and love. The love came from a totally different angle—from within, for myself, but as it did my life took on a new shape. Yours can to, and you're taking those steps right now, even if it feels like you're spinning in a pit.

 

Not sure if any of that resonates. Wishing you the best.

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Honestly OP, she isn't giving your words as much thought as you are.

 

Yes, she knows the door is open. But I can nearly guarantee you she isn't analyzing it beyond that. She likely interpreted your words as a nice sentiment and that was that. To put it another way, you're beating yourself up over something that she probably hasn't given a second thought to.

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... my ex wanted to be friends but it was too painful for me ... I broke that off with her but said she should get in touch if she ever considers reconciliation. ... My gut tells me it's the right thing to do, my heart hopes to hear from her again someday, but my brain says I'm a real dumba$$.

 

Naaah, that wasn't dumb, it was smart. Leaving the door open to what you want instead of hovering around trying to play friendzies demo's self respect. What good would 'friends' do, when its not what you want, and it would position you badly?

 

Leaving the door open doesn't imply 'forever,' but it gives her the opportunity to learn what her life will be like without you in it, and to reflect on you fondly. That's a better position for you, and far more dignified than hovering in the hope of manipulating her to come back. That IS painful, and worse, it's stagnation--while she moves on.

 

Skip that. Focus on healing, and make it a private goal to surprise everyone, including yourself, with your resilience and ability to bounce back to create a fabulous future for yourself. If there's a shot in hell of ex returning, THAT would be the most fertile ground for it. It's your percentage play: either ex will respect your recovery and be curious about you in the future, or you'll have legitimately healed and she will become less and less relevant over time.

 

That's a win/win, and the complete opposite of what hanging onto crumbs would buy you.

 

Head high.

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Why was it a good idea? Well, it was your truth, best you could understand it, when you expressed it. And even at our most vulnerable, even when our truth is a thin, nearly hopeless hope, I think there is freedom—and ultimately strength—in expressing it.

 

This is so close to home it brought tears to my eyes. Even in my darkest second-guessing, I couldn't truly regret leaving that door open. Because it came from my heart, and I said it while I had the chance to say it, and ultimately it's unlikely to matter anyway. Yes it was a long post, bc, and I appreciate you taking the time to write it, because yes it does resonate. Every word. Thank you.

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Focus on healing, and make it a private goal to surprise everyone, including yourself, with your resilience and ability to bounce back to create a fabulous future for yourself. If there's a shot in hell of ex returning, THAT would be the most fertile ground for it. It's your percentage play: either ex will respect your recovery and be curious about you in the future, or you'll have legitimately healed and she will become less and less relevant over time.

 

This is exactly my goal and my intention, and one I'm actively pursuing. The breakup has been a months-long process, and I've had lots of time to explore methods and activities to improve myself as a man and as a human being. Admittedly I began this project long ago with the hopes of it making a difference for her and us, but now it's all about evolving physically and mentally and spiritually for the sake of my own betterment. Step one, step one..

 

And yes it's occurred to me that if the improbable opportunity arises to try again, I doubt I'll be interested in her anymore. By then my attraction level will be more on a par with hers as it stands today, which is to say zero. Thanks so much for your insights.

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Focus on healing, and make it a private goal to surprise everyone, including yourself, with your resilience and ability to bounce back to create a fabulous future for yourself. If there's a shot in hell of ex returning, THAT would be the most fertile ground for it. It's your percentage play: either ex will respect your recovery and be curious about you in the future, or you'll have legitimately healed and she will become less and less relevant over time.

 

That's a win/win, and the complete opposite of what hanging onto crumbs would buy you.

 

Glad to have helped a bit. Catfeeder, per usual, really nailed it with the above.

 

I had two big relationships in my 30s, both ending before I wanted them to end. Humbling stuff, especially for me, a guy who spent a lot of early life dodging humility with ninja-like gusto. This was always my approach. Partly it's because I'm something of a mercenary when it comes to protecting my own core, but even when all I wanted into the world was for the ex to "come back to me" and reignite that core I knew there wasn't a chance in hell that she'd return to a leaky, wobbly vessel or that anything remotely close to the kind of relationship and connection I seek (in the abstract, with a specific human) can be built on a foundation that includes my weakness.

 

Probably I had an "advantage" of sorts. I spent a lot of my 20s breaking up with people, in short term and longterm relationships, who would have preferred I didn't break up with them. The ones who froze themselves in the first state of grief, putting on maudlin and manipulative shows in order to convince me I'd made a mistake—they were the ones who just confirmed my choice. The ones who took it with grace, walked on and flourished with flair—they were the ones who had me second guessing myself, even reflecting on where I, not them, lacked the juicy internal juju required for sustainable intimate connections.

 

Can only speak for myself, but I suspect when I look back on my life I'll find those two junctures of immense heartache to be some of the most important and rewarding of my journey. With the pain now a memory, the humiliation softened into humility, what I recall more vividly is the personal transformation and transformative experiences those moments produced. A love of yoga. A motorcycle trip through Japan. A cloud forest in Ecuador. Learning to cook exquisite meals. New friends and deepening old friendships. Purchasing my first home. Getting absurdly fit. Connecting with myself on a level that made those past connections, formative and fun as they were, strike me as shallow: a taste of thing I want from life, but not the meal.

 

So, time to start walking that path, for real. Find your Athens, your sun. Date yourself as you'd want another to date you.

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...a guy who spent a lot of early life dodging humility with ninja-like gusto.

 

Oh my god this made me laugh. 😆 And I know exactly what you mean about walking away with dignity as opposed to attempting to manipulate with grief. I have to give myself credit: at no time during the breakup did I beg and plead and cry and argue. I honored her desire to split and didn't bombard her with texts and emails and phone calls. I didn't see or hear anything from her for at least a month, at which time she suggested a get-together. It was then that she expressed the hope for us to remain friends, and it was then that I agreed. Big mistake, but during it all I feel it was the only overt mistake I made. But I've rectified that now, so it's history. On we go.

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Love your attitude.

 

And that's not a "big mistake" or even a mistake, in my opinion. Her truth at that moment was that she wanted to remain friends. We can write stories about whether that truth was genuine or self-serving—that's the ego, our internal novelist gunning for the Pulitzer. You agreed because, right then, it was your truth. And we can write stories about how that was really just desperation and despair—but, again, ego.

 

I like facts. Emotional facts are strange, because they can change shape quickly, as if planet earth could go from spherical to cubical, and back, in the matter of seconds. Still, the ability of feelings and emotions to shape-shift doesn't negate the truth of whatever they are, at any given moment, so always cut yourself some slack. All that was just turbulence on the flight, not a crash. If these journeys—be they through love or through grief—were totally linear and turbulence-free we humans would be bored our of skulls and much more simplistic animals than we are.

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Not sure what's going on with your life right now—work, finances, and so on—but if possible I'd use this moment as time to plan something nice for yourself. Maybe it's big trip, or a small getaway. Maybe it's just a massage and a nice dinner. Something.

 

I have a rich history of doing that, and while some of it certainly borders on "running away," like the time I flew to England to jump out of plane when I was 28 so I could forget what having sex with Whatshername was like, much of it has been a version of "running into" my feelings in places and environments that invariably produce new ones.

 

It could be super small, like looking at a map, searching online, and finding something, or some place, within a two hour drive that you've never seen, never been. And then just go. See the thing, find a place to eat, sleep in a weird motel. You'll have an awesome conversation with some waiter, feel like the loneliest man in the planet for an hour in the motel. Somewhere in all that you also feel like you, and it feels kind of great, or at least needed.

 

Also, it fills time, allows time to take on its truer properties, so a day is just a day rather than Another Day, and so on.

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All great ideas. Right after she broke up with me in June I went to Texas for two weeks to spend some time with my daughter. I also stayed with two of my closest friends, guys I've known since third grade (one hundred years ago). These guys are closer to me than my actual brothers. All people that love me unconditionally. And I noticed during that trip how fun and easy it was to strike up conversations with total strangers, which is totally out of character for me, in the airports and the Ubers and the restaurants. The trip did me a world of good, and as soon as time and money allow I'll be inclined to seek out that random destination where I don't know a soul. Maybe a beach somewhere...?

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Yeah. As essential and wonderful as our support systems are—those old friends, for instance—there is something equally essential and wonderful in remembering that you can connect with new people, new places. Doesn't need to be romantic. Random, at these junctures, is in ways more powerful. Affirms something inside yourself—something that was there all along but got obscured, outsourced to connection that had lost its connectivity.

 

I have this friend of a friend, eccentric dude a decade my junior. Had never met him, but had texted a bit here and there about real estate, which is a hustle of mine. Those exchanges would sometime veer toward motorcycles, something we're both into. Gear talk. This eccentric guy would often go, "Dude, you should come ride my Ducatis!" I'd be all, "Sounds fun," to which he'd propose we meet up the next day. We lived 3,000 miles away—so, um, no.

 

A week after my breakup we got into one of these real estate-turned-moto exchanges. I was in Texas, as it happens, haven ridden out there to clear my head from a home I own in a neighboring state. So I'm at a Texas motel, feet in a grimy pool, when he goes, "Dude, we should ride motorcycles together through the changing leaves of Japan." To which I said, "Tell me when." I was riding alongside a basic stranger at the base of Mt. Fuji two weeks later. Dude was kind of a nightmare, to be honest, and I shed approximately 100 gallons of tears behind my mirrored visor, but I'd chalk that trip up to one of the best of my life.

 

When you continue to fill yourself up like that—and it needn't be so cinematic, that's just my personal forté—it invariably dilutes other things in the glass. A little mainlining of resiliency to compliment the mourning.

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That sounds amazing. For me, most definitely would be much less cinematic than Mt. Fuji. Texas is about the most exotic destination that's available to me at this time (although Key West is calling my name), but I catch your drift.

 

And I find myself starting conversations with complete strangers almost every time I leave the house. Never anything romantic. Could be the bag boy at the grocery store, the old lady behind the deli counter, the clerk at the UPS store... I've never done this in my entire life. The words just spring out of my mouth. It surprises me and it feels good at the same time. Makes me smile, involuntarily. Must be part of that affirmation you mentioned.

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I've never done this in my entire life.

 

Any moment in your life when you can utter those 8 words means you are living well. Try to take some comfort in that, here and there. When all is said and done I think it's going to be those moments—when we step outside of ourselves to step further in—that defined a lot of the ride and made it worthwhile.

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