The First 48

After lots of crying, dancing (thank you James Brown), self-love, praying, and reflection, last night I messaged him to let him know that I’ll be going dark for two days, and that instead of coming early to cook him dinner before my 6/19 engagement shoot at the winery where he lives (that his brother manages) - something I had insisted on doing for him during our conversation earlier in the night - that I’m just going to do my 15-minute mini shoot in the vineyard and go. I messaged him more honestly about my unhealthy obsession with him than I have in recent memory - that I’ve tried to convince myself that I’ve contacted him over the past few days out of God’s love and care for his recovery from surgery, with the bringing him of flowers, and medication, and sushi on three separate days, and checking in on him every day with calls and messages - and I even believed it myself - but that, in reality, I’m still just so completely addicted to him. It must be hurtful to hear, and the best thing I can really do at this point, selflessly, is to let him go.

Thank God he’s a follower of Jesus - not that it should matter for me to set my own boundaries and end contact, but it does make it easier, knowing that he has a relationship with God and doesn’t need me in his life. The selfish part of that doesn’t feel good, but the righteous part does. The selfish part of it feels like death and heartbreak and longing and withdrawal. But the righteous part feels like love and freedom and faith and trust.

So, by Friday night I’ll hopefully have (over) 48 hours - TWO DAYS - of no contact, for a true and final, actual start to my sex-love sobriety. I added “no initiating contact” back to my bottom lines, because, seriously, I need to stop trying to control and enjoy this addiction. If I hold onto him as a friend, I’ve found, it leaves the door wide open to romantic intrigue, and I fantasize about a future sexual encounter...even plan it. I’ve bought way too much lingerie and BDSM gear, basically planning my relapse into sexual demoralization with him, with the hopes that that might make him love me again, and want to marry me. Ugh. Same thing over and over expecting different results. Insane.

After conversing with him earlier last night and facing the reality once again that he isn’t my ideal man anyway - we are seriously NOT compatible - I did cry, for a long time, to God. It wasn’t useless self-pity crying - it was very much a catharsis I needed. I was making a sandwich at the time, crying out, “Why the FUCK did I give up my self-love Pad Thai-cooking dinner time to listen to this FUCKER for over an hour on the phone complain about his situation?!” He’s a negative guy, and it’s draining. Yes he just endured hernia surgery, but he’s always been a depressive. I’m always trying to be a channel for God’s love to him, thy will not mine be done, but what about me? When do I start loving myself? I was so pissed at myself for a moment... but then I put on some music and started dancing in my kitchen, seeing myself in a window and being able to appreciate my own sexiness, loving the fact that no one else gets to enjoy MY body until a someday lifelong commitment. I’m in my house, I own my business, and I can do this.

I pulled out my 4th step relationship inventory where I wrote out my patterns, and asked myself for each one, “What should I have done instead?” The answer is, consistently, nothing. Don’t pursue. Don’t contact. Don’t date. Don’t get into the relationship. Don’t set the ball rolling in the first place.

Today is a day of work and service. Work for my clients and secretary the 5:30 pm AA meeting for the Progress House rehab girls. Maybe put together my bed, my daughter’s bed, and my kitchen table, myself. Love myself and others the way God loves us. 

And you know the Passenger song...

“Only know you love [him] when you let [him] go.”