Ex

Man, my oldest son threw something at me today.

The boys and I were driving home after spending a day of shopping, dinner and a movie.  From the passenger seat of the car, he said, "He's supposed to be coming up here for a visit."  I nodded my head.  I had heard this information twice before.  Once from my ex and once from my younger son.  It seems both sons are (at least kind of) looking forward to this visit.  I try not to think of it at all.  Men say things.  Not all things are true.  Get me?

Anyway, upon my oldest son's announcement in the car, I simply nodded my head.  What was there to say? He went on, "Do you think you'll hook up with him when he's here?"
What?!  Hook up??  What the...?  My response, "He's still mad at me."
"Maybe not," the man-child continued, "he wished you a Merry Christmas."  He did indeed.

So, let me back up.  My first response to my teenager's inquiry was: he's still mad at me.  Not: Get the heck out of here!  Not: I'm not interested in going there!  Not even. just plain: no.  What was that about? And while we're at it, why did I find myself fighting back tears as I continued to drive on in silence?  What was THAT about?

Yes, I find myself thinking about him often.  Yes, I wonder if I were better at being a wife, would he have learned to be a better husband, and would my family still be together.  I did leave. I put him out of our home twice and then I left the city.  I know why I did it.  I still loved him, but he was not doing the things I needed him to do.  I did communicate my needs to him.  Well, to be honest, I didn't communicate all of my needs to him.  I did not take him into my confidence.  It was stupid of me to think that he would figure that out on his own.  So stupid.  And then, there is the other reason.  Insecurity?  Maybe that is what I should call it.  Being honest, right?  I know why he married me. Our son.

But why did he stay married to me?  Shelter?  Security?  Love?  Me?  He never said.  Never said. And I needed to know.  I figured that if I gave him the space, he would fly away, or he would move Heaven and Earth to get me and the boys back.  But he didn't move heaven or earth.  He stayed.  He stayed and an anger festered in him.  He learned to hate me.  He moved to Atlanta, with his mother, and still he felt nothing but anger.

In the meantime, I was learning to communicate.  And I began to see where I went wrong in this relationship.  I began to try to communicate with him, but he was too angry to try with me.  I let more time go by, and I would try again.  Still angry.  More and more time would pass, until I stopped trying and began admitting that it was lost.  It was over, and it was time to move on. This could not be the plan God had in store for me anyway.  What God has in store for me would feel good to my whole self.  Holding on to some hope that my husband would love me the way I want to be loved and the way I wanted to give love was fruitless.  As a matter of fact, holding on to my hopes with him must be blocking God's plan. Let it go.  Let it go.  Let it go, girl.

I spent the last two years letting it go.  How is it that one suggestion of a "hook up" could chip away at my wall so easily?