But here's what I expect to happen within the next short while since I'm finally feeling this way. A phone call. A FB message. A MSN chat. Something. Because that's what seems to happen. I finally begin to let go, and then he makes contact, and I'm back to where I was. Perhaps I go back there with far more caution in my heart, but I return nonetheless.
This week, as I realized where I'm at, I considered sending him an email. I was planning on asking him not to bother contacting me again until he's able to honestly be a friend. I'm tired of the promises and being the person he chooses to befriend when there is no one else. I've spent a lot of time mentally writing this message to him. I've decided against actually contacting him because it will only add more drama to an already far too dramatic situation. But just writing this email in my head seems to have empowered me somewhat. I may still write it, but not send it. I often find it to be frustrating to write something that isn't going to be shared though (which explains the reason why I keep this public blog rather than a private diary.)
I had an ah-ha moment while reading a good friend's most recent blog post the other night. She wrote about the difficulty she faces with trusting people as a result of being burned in the past. It made me think about my same issue. I'm not sure how I can ever completely trust someone again. And that's a hard idea for me, since I tend to be quite trusting of the people I allow into my inner circle. It made me wonder if perhaps this is why I'm being so picky about who I choose to be with next. If I can't find the right person to be with, then I don't have to take the risk of trusting, right?
On my way home from an appointment this afternoon I had an interesting thought. I was filled with dread at the idea of having to come home again. I wanted to be anywhere but here. But then I thought of the babies, and I caught myself suddenly speeding to get home. And at that point it hit me... the discontent I'm feeling has nothing to do with them. It's from not getting out to stretch my legs. From not having any real "me" time. It has absolutely nothing to do with the children. I don't have to feel guilty for feeling this way now that I've had this realization.