I don’t know how much I can trust my memory.
I stumbled upon old emails between me and my ex. I mean 2004 old. The details preserved by my memory have worn thin, and I’m left with a generalized “cliff note” version of that time in my life. So it’s scary going back that far to archived moments. That’s proof right there, and that proof doesn’t lie.
As I read the emails, it was amazing how I didn’t recognize me. My tone was so chipper. I know that at that time I was still having bouts of anxiety, so it was weird to read how that part of me would fade into the background when I was in a relationship. I was distracted I guess.
Anyhow, even as I found post break up exchanges between us, I can’t believe how nice I was to his hook-up emails. He’d write very explicit emails saying how he wanted to get together for “old times sake” and I politely would write back “Sorry, I just can’t.” What the hell is that?
I was offended reading those emails from him, but my response has no flavor of being offended at all! If I received those types of emails today, you bet it would be a whole different response. But I was a different person then. I was probably too concerned about hurting his feelings. His feelings. Hurting HIS FEELINGS. Worried about hurting the feelings of someone who, over and over again neglected mine.
That whole relationship was a testament to how I , despite being an outwardly independent woman, put other people’s feelings before mine. I would get hurt by his actions, talk with him about it, he’s say he’d change his actions, and nothing would change. We would break-up, and get back together. He’d say he’d change, and nothing ever changed. For almost four years we played that game because I believed in him, but not in me.