Giving Notice - Friday, Sept. 29, 2017
Wednesday, Jul. 20, 2016 @ 10:46 am
I told him last night that I was exhausted by our relationship. That I needed a break from the awful feelings, from the weekly counselling sessions.
He asked what a break meant. He told me that I know full well that breaks don't work. He asked me if I was interested in other men. He told me that if this is what I want, then I have to move out and keep paying my share of the mortgage.
I woke up this morning with an ache in my chest. Like a vice around my chest, slowly tightening.
He was already in the shower - unusual for him to be up before me.
Later, I sat across from him at the kitchen table. He was eating his breakfast in front of his laptop. I sat down with a bowl of yogurt and stared at him. He sat for a minute, closed the computer, and said, "What?"
He gets ready to leave. He stands at the door.
"This is your chance to say something," he says coldly.
"Everything inside of me hurts. I feel like there is a cord slowly tightening around my heart. Every footstep of yours when you walk past is a bullet through my guts," I reply, half crying.
"Do you mean everything that you said last night?"
"I don't remember everything that I said. I don't know what to do. I'm so tired of having bad feelings, of never living up to what you need, of constantly feeling as thought I disappoint you."
I told him last night that I was disappointed that he never proposed to me. That he was never willing to really commit, and that makes me feel unsure and afraid and that I'll never be good enough for his high standards.
He said that he'd been ring shopping in the past. That he'd planned to propose when we were in Europe a couple of years ago, but that we'd had a fight right before leaving on the trip so he didn't go through with it.
"Are you interested in me anymore? I get the feeling that you are not."
I don't know how to respond to this. No, honestly, I'm not interested in him. I'm not interested in spending time with someone who thinks that I'm not trying hard enough, that I'm not good enough. I hate it when he touches me. I'm scared of every time that he walks past me. We were in Kelowna with my Aunt and Uncle this weekend, and he spent the majority of the time drinking with them rather than with me. I went to bed early when they all went down to the hotel bar for a night cap. I was disgusted by him when he came to bed three hours later, reeking of booze, snoring and sweaty through the night.
He eventually left. I sat at the table staring at my yogurt. I pulled out my sketch book and spent 15 minutes drawing, calming my mind, centering myself for the day.
I went to my job site - the new arts campus - and the sky was hazy and the cranes swinging around in lazy arcs. I meet up with the site project manager. I have this strange feeling - like the day after I lost my virginity - is this my first moment without being Daniel's 'partner'? I walk the site and take photos of manholes and catch basins. I watch the crews work for a while on a particularly tricky connection. I feel flat. The project manager is my age, and he's got an Ontario accent, and his handshake is firm and professional.
I stand inside the skeleton of the new building. It smells of wet concrete and dust. Clanking machinery, the buzz of a hand saw.
I'm going on a kayaking trip with Chris this weekend.