Love is about the truth.
It is about honoring and respecting the other person, offering them the dignity of their lives in truth.
He couldn’t even bring himself to tell me that he thought there was a problem.
He wouldn’t even tell me that he thought he might want to talk about something.
He wouldn’t even tell me why he was running, why he “couldn’t do this right now.”
He wouldn’t even take the time to talk to me.
Instead, he ran. Back to the city, back to work, back to where everything is exciting, new, and easy.
I wasn’t even worth that much to him?
I wasn’t even worth the effort of telling?
What. The. Hell?
Wasnt our life together, our children together, enough to talk about things and work things out before this catastophic event happened?
I don’t get it. I don’t understand it. I probably never will.
I know there were some challenges in the relationship, but nothing that couldn’t have been dealt with and worked out with hard work and communication, but we (the kids and I) weren’t even afforded that much love and respect.
I’m so damn angry and sad and there is nothing I can do about it. It’s not like I can say these things to him because he says absolutely nothing.
As if I’m not worth a single word.