Talked to Heather last night about what is going on with Jake. She understood and didn’t condemn him, though she thought his behavior indicated some possible trauma earlier in life. Who knows? We went around it a bit and she agreed I wasn’t the crazy one, but wouldn’t go so far as to say that Jake was crazy either. She is good. I found myself angry at him, but also sympathetic. Frustrated that he didn’t know what he was scared of and that he couldn’t tell me what he needed. He seems to feel guilty about making me feel bad. He wants me to not like him as much so it will be easier for me. Heather just shook her head. She said, “Depth, intelligence, whatever. What you need is someone who is emotionally mature.” Ah, but Jake clearly isn’t. So why do I still want him? Because I was counting on it? Because I had all those lovely plans laid out for him? No, I don’t think that’s it, though it might be part of it. At the very end of our talk, Heather told a story about her sister and I told a story about my grad school boyfriend. The punch line of both stories was that we (me and the sister) had both refused to allow our boyfriends to break up with us. I said, “I could just tell Jake we’re not breaking up.” And I felt lighter somehow, relieved. Heather said, “But then you’d have to be sure that you wanted to work it out with him, that you really wanted him.” But, in the bright light of the morning, I don’t think that’s true. What I think is that I don’t want to break up with him not that I want to marry him. I know I don’t. He may end up being all wrong for me, but I’m not ready to give up yet. I think I can tell him that, I think I can refuse a break-up here without making a life long commitment. Maybe—I mean maybe I can refuse it. It’s not entirely clear that he’s broken up with me. I don’t think he thinks he has. Oh, how I hate this mind reading mode. We don’t have plans to see each other again, which is bad. The last time we talked, yesterday morning, was bad. The last email I sent was something like, “hope you’re feeling better (he caught my cold and was home sick), sorry for the lousy phone call and take care.” His response, “you can call anytime, I feel sorry for how I’ve made you feel.” I didn’t call last night, instead I wrote this morning, “how are you today? I’m doing fine, I want us to work this out.” He wrote back, eventually (perhaps the longest three hours of my life) that he was still home, heavily medicated. He asked how I was and how my cat was. I tried to call him, but left a message. Later, I wrote another email saying the kitty was fine, his cats were probably enjoying having him home and I would probably try and call him again tonight. I’m busy convincing myself that he doesn’t hate me. Not hate, hate, just doesn’t care about me, doesn’t want to talk to me and finds interactions with me burdensome. Ah, yes. There’s that crazy negative thinking that has absolutely NOTHING to do with anything Jake has said or done. His dearest wish is for our interactions to be pleasant and angst free. My little emails have been just that. He may even answer the phone when and if I call tonight. (Yes, yes, I’m well aware that I’m going to call him. I’m just allowing myself to not call him if I don’t feel like it.)
I’m trying to keep it simple. I’m trying not to pressure him. He needs to feel on his own, free to think and get back to “normal.” I’m in a bit of suspense. I am completely braced for rejection. If I do get rejection, I can deal with it. How? By not accepting it. This is nuts. The way I usually look at break-ups is, there is no point trying to convince someone to stay with you. If he’s decided it’s over, then it’s over. I’m always tempted to argue the merits, explain why we should stay together and why he’s making the wrong decision, but I usually resist. Sometimes I say I don’t want to break-up, but I won’t try and convince him to change his mind. I have been known to cry, but it’s rare. Even rarer is actual yelling. When Jake and I were having our horrible Sunday afternoon talk, I was extremely calm and gentle. Only a little testy in the beginning. When I saw how upset he was, I became perfectly calm. Still even. I think if he says I’m better off without him, I say, “no, I’m not and we’re not breaking up. We’re going to figure this out. We can do this.” I don’t say why or how, just that we will. If I make that decision, how can he argue with me? And if he does, well, I can let him go. It’s just not my first choice. I had no idea I liked him this much. Maybe I’m not ready to break up yet. It would be good if he could figure out why he got so scared, then we could actually maybe fix the problem. Maybe that is just wishful thinking. I’m feeling dreadfully insecure about the whole thing. Yesterday I wasn’t even sure how much I liked him. Maybe I’m not that sure today either. I just really want to get a chance with him. I really need him not to run away from me. He needs to come back.
Another thought—not telling Mom about Jake is bad because when I hit my low, I couldn’t go to her for comfort. Now, I think it was just as well. It may not be over and I won’t ever have to tell her about this, or if I do, I can contextualize it. I do wish I could talk to her, and I’m sure I will eventually, but silence is still probably the best thing for now.
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