Ten years ago today I ceased to be partnered.
It was pretty devastating at the time, both because it happened so fast (trouble started in late August, nine years down the tube in March) and because it was so unexpected, at least on my end. It didn’t help matters that it also coincided with a major career change and a brewing family issue that would redefine the next seven or eight years of my life.
I didn’t talk much about the issues at the time and I’m not doing to do so now either except to say that if I’m ever in another relationship, two mistakes I hope I never make are:
- If things get to a crisis point before you even bring them up with your partner, you have a communication problem that’s probably much bigger than whatever the specific issue at hand may be.
- If you’re going to force a major change in the relationship, the second worst thing you can do is to ask your partner for his opinion and then basically inform him that he really has no say in the matter anyway and that you will ignore any objections he has–or even temporary mitigations or compromises he suggests.
- The worst thing you can, though, do is to follow this up by also telling him what emotions he is allowed to have about the whole process and what reactions are appropriate in your eyes.
I’ll just say we probably could have gotten past Number 1, but Numbers 2 and 3 were insurmountable and were also probably evidence that the outcome was inevitable from the start.
But that’s not what I’m here to talk about today. The big deal is that I got through it (and all the related bullshit that was going on in my life) and ten years later, I’m happier than I’ve ever been. The shitshow that was 2011 and 2012 was a wakeup call for me, although the alarm didn’t really go off until 2013. It made me realize that I was depressed, that I had been for some time, and that I needed to do something about it. All those “bad things” didn’t cause my depression. Depression is a physical thing that afflicted me long before any of this. What they did was make it so intolerable that I finally had to get some help. And I did.
I think anyone who knows me would probably find me to be a much more tolerable person than I was ten or twenty years ago. I like my life better and I like myself better. I’m more secure in the fact that I’m a pretty OK person and more inclined not to give a fuck if someone disagrees. I tend to focus on things I like now rather than things I hate. I don’t spend all my time pissed off about things that don’t matter. My sense of adventure has returned, if in a slightly more grown-up version. Everything is just … better.
Maybe I was never suited to be in a long-term relationship, which I’d pretty much always believed anyway until I found myself in one. I like spending time with myself better than anyone else, so a lot of my friendships suffered when it became necessary for me to spend so much of my time with one other person. I like calling all the shots in my life, and I’m willing to take the consequences. I also really fucking hate traveling with someone else, but that’s a whole other story.
As for the ex? He and I don’t really talk much anymore, and that was largely my doing because I kind of needed it to end; we’ve actually only seen each other in person once since 2011 and I didn’t find it an especially pleasant experience. There’s no animosity involved. We just went our separate ways and it just doesn’t feel like we have that much to say to each other anymore. I’m guessing he’s as relieved about it as I am.
Will I ever find myself in another long-term relationship? Probably not. At this point, friendship is more important to me than sex and romance (though I have to admit the “friends with benefits” thing has its charms). I have good friends, but I could use more. I have a job that I love, but I could probably have a better life-work balance. Nothing is ever perfect, but everything is pretty damned good!