confessions about exes

confession: i’m trying, trying, trying to practice patience. i am usually patient, except when i’ve run out of patience. precisely at the point when patience expires, the real practice begins.

confession: i miss him. i miss him even though he hasn’t moved yet. i miss him even though he might not move. i miss him even though if he moves he promises to return. i miss him even though i don’t see him very often. i miss him because he is one of the few people i can call at 3am and he’ll answer the phone, he’ll unlock the door, he’ll let me lay next to him in bed and not say anything, not explain anything, not ask me anything, and be ready to stay awake all night to listen to anything i might want to express.

confession: the ex married her. i saw a wedding photo. his visa was about to expire. he married the first wife to qualify for a visa. he married this second wife to qualify for his visa’s renewal. i was the woman in-between the wives. i wonder if either wife realizes why he proposed. i know why. i know him well enough to stay away from him.

confession: i don’t want to be cynical or judgmental. about him, i am both.

confession: the hardest part about reliving trauma in therapy in order to reprocess and desensitize the memories, somatization, and correlated beliefs is that i’m remembering incidents my mind has repressed to protect me. i thought the sexual abuse began at age 11. i repressed the first incident which was disguised as punishment when i was 5.

confession: i overshare. i also undershare. i tell people too much too soon. i also hesitate to reveal any vulnerability.

confession: if i could, i would get in the car and drive west. the truth is i can, but i won’t give myself permission to go.

confession: if he would go with me, i’d get in the car and drive east. i asked him to go. he said no.

confession: i almost bought a house this week. this house enticed me with its brightly colored walls and overgrown jungle creeping onto the back porch and a protective grandmother tree shading the front yard. then i did the math and decided to keep renting an apartment.

confession: i’m afraid to buy a house, afraid to go off the pill with the intention of getting pregnant, afraid to grow up and want the things grown-ups want. i’d rather get in the car and drive west. or take a nap. or read a book. or write a book. or drink tequila.

confession: i have daily fantasy conversations with my ex-wife. i tell her everything. just like when we were together, i tell her everything. only now, she doesn’t hear me. she doesn’t know i continue to converse with her each day in my imagination. she doesn’t know how much i miss her.

confession: earlier today i found a present i had bought for her. i used to buy her presents whenever i found something beautiful. every beautiful sparkly jeweled treasure i discovered i would buy for her and put away to give her later, to give to her for an occasion or for a random tuesday afternoon surprise. the first year we were apart, i’d find these presents tucked away for her every few weeks and i would cry for days. before today, months had passed since i’d found a present intended for her. today i didn’t cry. today i put the necklace around my own neck and admired its shine in the mirror.



About angel joy

love is an action verb. i live love in action.
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One Response to confessions about exes

  1. pixie sister says:

    confession: i am ready to be grown up. i want a stable job. a house. i am ready for kids. i have none of these and they seem to keep getting pushed back further. i am finally here and i am here “alone” without the universe’s support. weird. hey- but i own a car now 😉

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