Let Me Be

What does it take to finally move on? Everyone wants to find someone that I can pass blame to so they feel like a twisted hero. I’ve wanted to get over her for a long time, but I’m trying harder and harder these days.

People I haven’t spoken to in years are crawling out of the walls to tell me things I don’t care to hear. I know what she’s doing! I don’t care! These people don’t know how much they’re hurting me when they tattle on her.

With every story, I try to analyze her behavior. It’s my nature. I need to find patterns and answers, so my brain goes directly to logic. These are the thoughts I’m trying to avoid. I look for reasons why she’s changed so much. I try to figure out where I went wrong with her. I want to understand why she makes me the villain.

The truth is, I no longer care. She doesn’t, so why the fuck should I? I’m fine in the fire. Make me the villain. I’m good at it. One person’s nemesis is another’s best friend. When the dust settles, hearts only bleed for the wounded.

She doesn’t hurt the kids. She’s understands that I’m a great father. She thanks me all the time for becoming a better person for them through my PTSD recovery. Every time she leaves, she’s fine leaving the kids with me. She knows they’ll be safe, and their needs will be met. When someone tells me she was this place or that, I know where my boys are. That’s all that matters to me.

I’m trying to stay civil with her. I don’t want to be her supervillain. Being her nemesis is hard enough, and I don’t want to escalate things. I still love her, but I want to get to the point where I only love her as the mother of my kids.

This has been a shitty divorce. I thought she wanted me to be a better person. She told me she didn’t want to divorce me if I could get better. Five years, and I’ve been working every single day to get better. She keeps narrowing her criteria with every step I make, so now it’s time to give up.

Please, world, let me grieve so I can get on with my life. You may not think it’s fair that I don’t get to be me. You may think I’m crazy for working, then going straight home for my kids, and spending all my time off with my kids. I don’t care what you think.

Do I want more personal time to work on myself? Of course I do. I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t want to be the only one who’s suffering from an identity crisis. I haven’t known who I am since I left the military, so I might as well wait until my kids are grown up to worry about having another intimate connection with someone.

I’ve been forced into this role, and anyone interfering with the situation just puts my kids at risk. Let her decisions affect her. Don’t drag me into it. She doesn’t want me there for her, so I won’t be. Getting me involved with her life just leads to rumination, and if I’m busy doing that, I’m going to exhaust myself before I can make dinner for my kids.

Let me be. Let us be.

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