When do you cut ties and break away? How much emotional armor do you need to be friends with your past lover?
Mr. Faraway and I have been off since right before Christmas. Over the last month, we’ve inched closer, through text, through phone. I’m sure that conventional wisdom would offer a clean split, a full break as the best medicine.
But in life that full split is not so easy, even when your partner is not actually in your daily life due to distance. At the end, when I was physically sick from worrying and no longer able to sleep through the night, I was convinced that he served absolutely no role in my life.
He does serve a role, though – the role of the person I text right before I go to bed so I don’t feel so lonely. The person who shares in my stories, and the person to send sappy packages to on Valentine’s Day. The person, when I’m down and hopeless on finding the “right” life, I can imagine retiring with in the Panamanian jungle when we’ve finished our first world business. The person I visit when I go to that side of the US.
I let some emotional armor down over the last month, and was more and more vulnerable – so I deserved the pointy part of this dart of a text:
“I want love in my life – love in the form of a real life comforting hand on a daily basis.” Mr. Faraway
He is communicating what he wants, clearly. How to protect myself? How to know when I really can picture him with someone else and be at peace? I thought I was there, but maybe it’s just all this Mardi Gras, Valentine’s Day hullabaloo. The new guy I’m excited about it cavorting around Greece right now, and my best friend the beekeeper is on his way to the East to see his girl.