It pains me to write this, but it is how I process pain. My girlfriend left me two days ago. We had met at a conference in Bonn, Germany. The first moment I glanced at her, I knew that I would do everything in my power to meet her, to form a yet to-exist relationship, and to hold it for life. I can tell you that the last portion of that plan has been a proven failure.
The moment I set eyes on her, every atom of my being aligned itself in her direction. It wasn’t due to her physical beauty. In fact it had very little to do with it – although her total beauty exceeds my comprehension. The feeling was beyond control, it was complete interest and devotion. I had never felt this way before in my 16 years of dating.
I did all I could to grab her attention, and did. After a final night sitting together on a bench overlooking the Rhine, speaking to each other from the heart, I couldn’t believe the moment’s beauty. At 1 AM, we hugged a heartbreaking goodbye in Bonn… Staring at each other, cold, hearts bursting with fire as a bittersweet pang struck me vertically from my feet, up. Soon after we explained our desire for each other and in no time I had flown her in to Montreal for two weeks together.
I made her a promise, that no matter the difficulty – be it from the distance, from intruders, and from each other – I would stand solidly by her side, as an absolute unshakeable partner. At the time she made a similar claim. Temptations that previously required conscious efforts to cease now took none. She was the only woman I’ve met (and I’ve met a few (sub-parentheses, this isn’t a flex, but an ode to the power of love)) I knew with certainty I could spend all my energy growing with, without the cost of regret. In fact, I knew more than this. I envisioned myself caring for her during pregnancy, feeding and keeping her comfortable, nurturing children together, and building a sweet love narrative. Despite her leaving me, I still feel this. I still want it.
Our time in Montreal together was beautiful. We laughed, kissed, cried, sang, and stared each other in the eyes incessantly. Holding her hand felt like home. I could never explain how such a feeling hadn’t been felt before. Our first airport goodbye hurt, but I knew I’d see her again. Months later, in August, we travelled to California for 20 days.
I was destined to write a three part series describing our trip, but have opted to delete all of it. It isn’t real any longer. The dream is dead, the momentum ruined, and memories the only remnants. Here we faced real consistent inter-personal issues. With a 20 day countdown, there is tremendous stress for all interactions to run smoothly, for every moment to be perfect, for the itinerary to be met. Mix in scorching heat, thousands of driving miles, fatigue, and hunger, and the second span of time we spent together was half spent in friction.
I often questioned, in my mind, if this was still worth our time. It was quite easy to remind myself that I truly loved her, beyond the difficulties and stubbornness of character, because I knew one day they would fall away like the toy figurines we’d entertain as children of which we cannot remember letting go, but of whose absence we are certain.
Along with my enumerable faults, I maintain strong conflict resolution. I’ve been around conflict more than I haven’t, and the steps to recognize, enter, and disengage conflict are written into me. The caveat being your partner must want, and simultaneously be capable of such diffusion and transformation. Many moments bypass my capacity for such measured action, but succeed more often than chance. By no means a trivial skill, conflict resolution takes years of practice and failure.
It is important to note my particularly wide and distant perspective on the relationship; it extends well beyond the issues of the now, the day, the week, the month. It is an extended arc, grounded in two locations; the moment of first love, and death, where difficulty and its proper resolution would sprout an impeccable love along the way. Time, energy, care, and consideration being necessities in its achievement.
Never keeping stock of good days and bad, I used several mental techniques to operate with minimal stress during difficult periods (this doesn’t mean I never felt low). Inter-personal conflict was conceived as opportunity to understand my partner’s needs, to adjust, and transform into a more capable unit. This would be repeated at every conflict as needed. I felt many of our issues were frivolous and unnecessary – partly from spending 24 years on “problematic problems”, ones that are hardened against an opportunistic mindset. I believe that every single conflict we endured was an opportunistic problem.
With time, and as we drew nearer to the split, I noticed the frequency and magnitude of friction events to increase. I rarely targeted her with complaints of her character (even though I could have), but felt I was constantly under the microscope. If and when I had an issue, I would mention it and was easily satisfied if I could get an acknowledgement. It often seemed, however, that it was me and my existence that was becoming a burden. Little things, like unfortunate mistaken wordings and actions of good intent would be interpreted as slight of character. It hit an ultimate low during our second last phone interaction. I explained that I no longer knew how to act without causing issues, and my tongue was tied. Once your partner begins to make you feel incapable of doing and saying the right things, when they no longer have the ability to measure their reactions, especially over trivial matters (like wordings), when your words, character, and being agitate like sandpaper, it is a sure sign they are unconsciously queuing up to give you the boot; it has happened many times in my past and is quite obvious. The issue in this particular call was, after a stressful week of deep work-related stress, she had felt I made it about me instead of her.
Let me be clear about one thing; I never for a second thought this relationship was about me. It was always about consistency and growth between us. The overall (and not instantaneous) stability of our emotions was extremely relevant and important to me. Nearly every single night, without fail, I would record a five minute video summarizing my day, bookended with words of affection. I wanted her to wake up feeling supported, knowing I was there, solidly behind her. I’d send her photos many times a day, just to give her a reminder that she’s on my mind. I’d leave good luck notes on our shared calendar when she’d have a presentation. When she asked for a picture of my eye, I spent $250 on the service and framing, and an extra $400 on shipping for her birthday. The money meant nothing to me knowing she’d be smiling, feeling warmth in her heart. I began learning German online for an hour every possible morning before work. I was willing to live in her country; a place I hadn’t spent more than a month. I planned a hike in California where I knew there’d be waterfalls, because she loves waterfalls. I shared my passwords with her. I planned on convincing my supervisor to allow me to work remotely in Germany for extended periods of time. I wanted to spend my life with her. I changed my teaching load, and stopped giving lectures, so I could spend more time with her. Every Wednesday at 2 PM I’d leave work early for a 3 hour FaceTime date with her, and loved every minute of it. I’d write her occasional emails explaining my day, and professed my love for her in more intellectual ways. None of this was out of fear of losing her. It was all out of the sincere joy I felt in nourishing our relationship. In the last week of our time together, I bit my tongue as I endlessly missed her, and let her work in peace. I’d leave words of encouragement and love at night. I sang and played a short Christmas tune on piano (which she never mentioned). Most importantly, however, I gave her my heart. I never wanted it back.
For all these romantic qualities, I have some unfortunate character traits. Men would often make me insecure, hovering around her, putting her in strange situations. I never extended a judgement on them beyond what they did or proved to want from her. I never once told her, explicitly or implicitly, how to act, how to behave, what choices to make and not make, who to hang out with and not hang out with. This was entirely up to her. I did, however, raise questions and emotional reactions to several situations that were too unpleasant for me, thousands of miles away, to simply sit and let pass like an unfortunate observer. These were in no way unmanageable nor non-remediable through basic compassionate discussion and unrelenting love, achieved by keeping the vision of unity in mind. In addition, my many traumas have played against me and in some cases must have made her feel hopeless in its ugly guise.
Stress management is a practice, conflict resolution is a practice, compassion is a practice, devotion is a practice. A practice without practice is mere inability. My mistake was to assume her path of personal and relationship growth was on par with the quality and quantity of mine. It was nowhere in the vicinity. That isn’t a judgement on her, but a reality to have recognized early on. I would never have made the call she made to separate because of the extreme practice life had, through tremendous sufferings, offered me. In my view under a life of practice, our issues were micro-issues. To her, each was one additional glaring angle of tilt towards the toppling tower. I refused to perceive us this way, because I felt absolute unconditional love for her. I cannot fault her for accepting her reality. In fact, I am in her favour.
So, here we are. Waking is a nightmare. Sleeping is a nightmare. My love’s sweet morning words are gone, and my slumber cold even in warmth. Of all the things I could wish for, it would be to see her smile again, to hold her sweaty hand, to embrace her as we did in Bonn, and to hear her voice one more time… To sit for hours and rant to each other about our week, to reminisce about how we met, and the life we wanted to build. But it’s over. Shock, pain, and sorrow.
I want to wish one final, and permanent goodbye to the woman I hoped would be my partner for life. I was ready for her, and everything she needed from me. I never felt the desire for anyone else when we were together, and all I wished was to pour my love out into her.
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