Letting Go, Finally

Three nights ago, I gave in to my physical desires, I only desire sex with someone I love and the thought of a Craigslist hook-up just repels me, so I messaged Writer to ask if he would hook up with me. His response was enthusiastic. He came by two nights ago. The house was cold when we arrived so I turned on the heat. He was sullen and went on about what was wrong with his relationship with his son Girboy, never stopping to inquire how I was doing. He finished and “serviced” me, completing just in time to do his spousal duty of picking up his non-driver wife in name and finances only IMO (is that the way to do poly, use it to avoid divorce?) from work.

I’ve never felt bad about sex before. Yesterday I was nauseous for most of the day over what I had done – used him without love in my heart.

Last night and this morning I wrote him a long letter, unsure if I would send it or not. I just wanted to see the words in black and white. I apologized for using him, how much I regretted it, and promised it would not happen again. I wrote of how much good we had together and what I appreciated about him. Of how several of his upsets with how Girboy is when he is at his martial home mirror how he has treated me.

Writer used to comment regularly that he thought his wife’s long-term secret affair come poly boyfriend Bumping Gnome (who I have not heard about in some time, since she found a a new male friend) was simply using her as  “warm, wet place to put his d***.” I wrote that I was starting to feel like he had used me in the same fashion. How I felt like, while I believed he meant his words of love and future in the moment, that they really didn’t mean anything – that I didn’t mean anything to him, else how could he hurt me so much without lifting a finger to help me heal.

I brought up wondering if it was his fear of rejection that prevented him from letting our partnership go when/if he knew he could not keep his agreements with me about others. And I had asked MANY times to let it go when we could still be friends. It would have hurt, yes, but less than this.

I wrote of how I still love him, but can no longer afford to be in love with someone who disrespects me and hurts me without reparations. Of what he could do to earn back that partnership, and of what he needed to do at minimum for me to be able to be friends with him.

I sat on most of the day. Reading and rereading on breaks from working on the house that was to be ours. Tweaking. Crying. Letting go.

In the end, I decided to send it, by email, today. He finished his NaNoWriMo goal of 50,000 words towards a novel yesterday, so I no longer felt the need to prolong my pain for his benefit of seeing that goal through to the end without my upsetting him with my needs.

Breaks this evening have been spent crying and watching scenes from Bridges of Madison County, and letting go. I think I’m finally past the stage of hoping, and waiting, and praying. I haven’t burned the bridge – but depending on his reaction, I have a figurative can of kerosene and match on standby. Not as easy emotionally as a divorce where you no longer love the other. I’ve never ended a relationship not actively wishing to be on good terms before.. so this is uncharted territory for this massively codependent girl.

Wish me luck, Wish us all healing.


About Apophenias

I'm human. Female. Self-employed. Searching for connections in the randomness of life. Currently residing the US. ... And not quite defined by being in the midst of a biological ticking.
This entry was posted in Healing, polyamory, Sex addiction, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s