Sunday thoughts 

Here I am – another Sunday and another long train journey. This time I did remember to bring my book with me. (Though I did forget my headphones). So my daily writing spree failed but I’m ok with that. It didn’t fail due to lack of thoughts. In fact I had a plan of all the posts I would write – the right-media’s attack on students organising against PREVENT, Guantanamo, labelling and measuring of ethnicity, White “militias”, #Oscarssowhite … No, it wasn’t due to lack of ideas but lack of time. So for that I can forgive myself.

Today I don’t want to talk about the world. Well the state of the Eurocentric world I live in. I’m looking into myself today. I don’t know what it is – perhaps the crisp snow laid down on the fields, untouched or my morning spent flipping through my scrapbook from last year – but I am drawn back to all the warning signs I’ve had through my life before things went massively wrong. And all the times I consciously or unconciously ignored them.

One thing dominates these thoughts – my ex. This isn’t surprising since I have seven years of mistakes there. I wonder if it’s harmful to look back on those things. Or whether some reflection is ultimately healing. It is regret. It is embarrassment. It is shame.

The warning signs were there right from the start. I should have known he would not treat me well based on how he treated his ex. I should have never gone out with him knowing he hadn’t yet broken up with his current partner, even though he promised he would the next day. I should have left him as soon as I found out I was the “other girl” and he hadn’t yet even broken up with his ex. Should have. The warning signs were there. I chose to ignore them.

Lie after lie. Sometimes I knew. I suppose there may have been many times I didn’t. Forgive and forget. More like ignore and pretend. I chose to keep living the fairytale so that I wouldn’t be alone, so that I didn’t have to admit that I had made a mistake.

And then I would lie. As he got more controlling and I got more suffocated. Never cheating – never anything I would even care if he did. But he cared. Talking to colleagues and friends from university. Giving guys who were in my workgroup my number. Adding them on my Facebook. Of course he did all those things. He actually cheated on me – three times (yes three). But yet he made me feel like the cheat. I could see straight through the manipulations but I chose to ignore them. Stuck between the guilt of hurting his feelings – is that guy really worth loosing him over? Why can’t I just delete him of Facebook even if it makes me look like a completely isolated maniac? Why do I care what people think of me? But of course I did.

I had boundaries and lines I would never cross. Yet he made me cross them all. Using guilt and a twisted idea of what love is supposed to be.

So, not the cheeriest of thoughts on a long journey on a Sunday morning. The regret is not so much for wasted time. I know they have taught me to trust myself, to not compromise unless I want to and to find fulfilment in myself.

It’s more for the sins I’ve committed along the way. Thinking about it now the guilt drills into my heart and fills my stomach with cold, heavy stones. I trust in my relationship with my Lord and pray for forgiveness. I pray I find the strength to learn from my mistakes and to never make them again. And I pray for happiness – both in this world and the next.

O son of Adam, as long as you call on Me, I shall forgive you of what you have done, and think nothing of it. O son of Adam, even if your sins were to reach up to the clouds in the sky, and then you were to ask for My forgiveness, I would forgive you and think nothing of it. O son of Adam, even if you were to come to Me with sins nearly as great as the earth, and then you were to meet Me after death, not worshipping anything besides Me, I would bring you forgiveness nearly as great as the earth. – Tirmidhi

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Sticks and stones may break my bones but your words cut me deeper

I was going through my notes on my phone, deleting things that don’t mean anything anymore. And then across a note I had last updated in 19th January 2013. They contain the words of my ex. Words he would say whilst we were arguing. And I’d write them down so I would not go back to him but like a fool I always did. Even after all those years they still hurt and I’m so disappointed in myself for staying with it for so long.

Finally those words are deleted out of my life. And slowly but surely I am deleting the memorise of him out too.

Once a whore always a whore

Your tears don’t mean shit to me. You look pathetic when you cry

You’re such a pathetic little shit

What I said, ok it was wrong, but see how angry YOU make me?

Don’t call me again or I’ll chuck my phone in your face

Me: I love you

You: Whatever, bye

When they move on 

The jerk when I see you with her is something I’m not prepared for. I don’t love you. That I know is true. But seeing you with her brings up the butterflies and warmth from when I was her.

And the pain, the tear and the anger.

And the anger lingers. How dare you be happy when you tore me up and left me so empty, broken and unhappy.

You’re smiling and travelling. And I’m doing the same. But I expected me leaving you to leave you as empty, broken and unhappy. I did not expect you to pick up the pieces as I have. I did not think you could move on without me.

I feel a build up of almost hate. Like I don’t want you to be happy. But I’m not a hateful person. “Of course I want you to be happy” I tell myself. And it would break my heart to see you suffering – despite the suffering you caused me.

I suppose I just didn’t think you could be. I expected you to come back – try and come back, beg even – believe that your life would be nothing without me. And yes I would have said no. And you know this. But seeing you move on makes me feel so useless. Like I didn’t even matter. Like I’m replaceable.

Dear ex-fiancée

I knew you were wrong for me right at the start. As soon as I said yes. The first time, seven years ago. When I said yes to you asking me out over the phone. You didn’t even give me the respect then to ask me face to face. No romantic gestures, not even your whole heart.
And I regret it. I regret all those nights wasted talking to you, hearing your tales even though I knew they were lies. I regret all those days I lied to my friends and families, missing out on meals with them so I could see you. I regret all the times I let you see me and touch me in ways no one else had. I regret baring the deepest secrets only for you to manipulate and twist my words. I regret the tears flown and the compromises made even when I knew I was right and you were wrong. There are so many things I regret. Seven years of regret.

I wish I did not keep coming back to you. Time and time again. Even though I knew you were twisted and twisting me. You did not make me grow but rather tried to contain and control me. I wonder still how much further I would have flown if you had not clipped me.

But through all that regret, I am grateful. Grateful for the lessons learnt, for the support my family provided me, and the resilience I grew to adopt. And most of all, I am so grateful I did not marry you.

I don’t thank you for those. Those were all me. But I forgive you. I know you’re suffering something deeper which means you don’t know how to love without taking, how to respect without hurting or how to talk without lying.

Do you regret? Do you regret flirting with her which then turned into full on cheating? Do you regret just not telling me at the start rather than continuing for four years? Do you regret all the times you didn’t trust me, even though I’ve always been nothing my faithful to you – perhaps a little naive? Do you regret hurting my family in the process?

I am better than you in every sense of the word. I see that now, though I didn’t see it then. Education, work, looks, friends, faith, passion. Is that why you were always so insecure? Do you regret not fighting harder to keep me?

I just hope you regret what you did to me so that no one else has to go through the same.

This post was prompted by the word ‘regret’ – as part of the one word inspiration challenge suggested by Writing 101. What do you regret from a past relationship?