Today would have been my two year anniversary. If, you know, I hadn't decided to blow up my life. Two years from this day... don't I look happy?
I was happy then. I was on what would be referred to that day and for every day in the future as "the best first date in the history of first dates." It is so easy to fall in love, but much, much harder to stay in love. Falling in love is something that just happens (if you let it). Staying in love takes work, and effort, and is it even plausible that two people will consciously decide to want the same thing over and over and over? It would be like two people going to a restaurant and both genuinely wanting to order identical meals every time. Sure sometimes you both want the risotto special, but every time? The odds aren't good.
I don't really know what I want. Well, I guess that's not true. What I really want is to go back to how things were in the beginning, before he started making all these negative assumptions about me, before he started viewing spending time with me as a chore, before he saw me a the girl that gets upset about everything, and before he started throwing around accusations that I'm depressed and I have anger management issues instead of trying to treat me in a way that doesn't make me feel sad or angry.
When we first started dating, I felt like all the things people had been telling me about love were actually true. When a guy wants to be with you, he makes time for you. You don't have to wait around for him to call. You don't have to wonder when you're seeing him again. You know where you stand right from the start. He makes you feel like a priority. Last week, he cancelled plans on me, twice. And the second time, he didn't even tell me he was cancelling until the moment said plans were actually about to happen.
So I'm not sure if it's possible to go back to that place, and what the heck am I fighting for? Trying to convince someone that they should care more about you is exhausting, and demoralizing. And probably not even realistic. There is a voice in my head telling me to just walk away, because this is no longer a person who cares about me, and I deserve better, even if that means being alone. That voice is pretty pissed about the fact that he went mountain biking rather than come to Regionals, and all the resentful things he's been saying about how much time I spend with my horse. That voice says that Tucker and I will be just fine on our own, like we've always been, thank you very much.
But then I think of all the nice things he's said to me in the past couple of weeks, about how I'm too important to him for him to just give up, and he'll never find another girl with as many good qualities as I have, and I'm sweet, and caring, and nurturing, and smart, and he loves that I love horses. And then I think it would be foolish of me to throw away what we've had together just because last week kind of sucked. There is a voice telling me to be a grown up, and work through it, and stay positive, and be solution-oriented.
Part of me wishes very much that we had stayed together and could be celebrating two years together today. But honestly, I know it was right for me to leave, because things weren't going well, they were about to get worse, and we needed something big in order to prompt us both to take a hard look at how we were behaving. But now I don't know what the right move is.
I have this recurring dream where I'm driving and suddenly the road is gone, and my truck goes straight out over a cliff into nothingness. That's what life feels like right now, like the path I was on fell out from underneath me, and now I don't know what's ahead. I know that's just being dramatic, and I still have a job, and a family, and friends, and a fantastic horse, and life will go on and I'll figure out a permanent place to live. But where and with whom is a big, scary, intimidating question mark.