I need you.

Day 2

Hey Baby, 

I've been thinking... god, have I been thinking. There's no way I should even try to put all of my thoughts into one letter to you. There are too many. They are too frequent. By the time I finish writing down one thought, three more have popped into my head. I also don't really know how to determine which of the many, many thoughts are more important to share. So if this turns into a ramble, I apologize. But cohesive writing right now isn't exactly at the top of my priority list.

I find myself constantly checking...

... all of the different avenues that I might hear from you through, knowing that the majority, if not all of them are now blocked. I keep hoping you'll find a way to message me and tell me that you miss me, and still feel the same way. That right now you're saving your family. I remember one time in bed, I asked you to promise that if you ever found yourself in a position to have to go dark, if you'd find a way to reach me and reassure me that you still loved me. You said you would. I believe you still might. 

So, how am I doing? Well, when I start to spiral (which seems to be a permanent state for me right now) I close my eyes and go back to that rooftop and the conversation we had on Thursday. I go back to us repairing the tension that had been between us over several days. How well we talked through our individual needs, our individual thoughts, and how we both could show up for each other. Did I ever tell you how proud of us I was that night? It's like, for the first time in my life, I had someone who wanted to work through it. Who didn't want to just brush it under a rug. Who believed in me so much,  and how good we were together, that they were willing to have those hard conversations.  And then, every time I find myself on that roof, I go back to what I promised you. I made you a promise that I would believe you... even when every fiber of my being told me to question everything, I would still believe.

I would believe that you are madly in love with me.

I would believe that you want to spend the rest of your life with me.

I would believe that I am the love of your life.

I would believe that you have never loved anyone as much as you love me.

I would believe that you truly thought we were soulmates.

I would believe that when you come home after a long day, it was to me you wished you were coming home to.

I would believe that when you're with me, you feel more safe than you've ever felt in your entire life. 

I would believe that you feel more like yourself when you are with me. 

I would believe that we would stand on the Golden Gate Bridge, I'd hold your hand, and we'd howl at the moon.

I promised you, that I would believe your words. So today, I choose to keep that promise.

And babe, I guess my question I have for us is this... Do we still think this is the right choice for us?  Because me? 

Me? I'm not so sure.  

This wasn't just a moment.

It wasn't just lust. 

It wasn't just curiosity.

It wasn't just simple, friendly love. 

It wasn't a mistake. 

It was an all-consuming feeling and glimpse into how much happiness could be waiting for us... and how perfect our lives could be if only we were brave enough to be honest.

It was an opportunity for us to be who we truly can be.  Who we are. 

Yes, I love Kyle. And I know you love Josh.  Hell... I love Josh. Hurting him? Hurting them? It's heartbreaking. Both of our husbands are great men and I'm genuinely heart broken that we hurt them. But how we love them, and how we loved eachother, was so different. And now? Where does our love leave us? Strangers? You avoiding me in the grocery store?

I've asked myself... would I find happiness staying with Kyle? And the answer is yes. He's a good man, a good friend, and a wonderful father, who would absolutely never do anything to hurt me. It would be safe. It would be reliable and we'd continue to build a beautiful life together and one day... just maybe... we might even put a pool in the ground.  I do love him, so very much.

I don't think I ever told you about an exercise I did with my therapist a few sessions ago. She made a circle, broke into two sections, each with a label... "Mom" and "Dad". And then she asked me to write adjectives about each of them in a given amount of time.  How would I describe my mom?  My dad? As you could probably guess, they were polar opposites of eachother. 

Then, she asked that I do the same exercise, but she put me on one side of the circle, and Kyle on the other. And it's funny how many of my dad's descriptors I used on myself... and how many of my mom's I used on Kyle. 

Then, she asked me to give her a word that was missing from my life with my mom and dad. What was lacking?After a little thought, the undeniable truth was "safety".

And she asked the same about my life with Kyle. What was it lacking?The word that immediately, without hesitation, took absolutely no time to enter my mind was... Passion. 

Sure, it's easy to lose the passion after 20 years. And it's just as easy to have passion in the first 2 months.

But was it only 2 months? You said you started dreaming about me at Thanksgiving. You knew you were in love with me at Christmas. Between the tension that resulted in months of disagreements, and repairs, I can't say the passion was limited to the days after you told me you were in love with me. No... that's impossible. Because we've always been passionate. 

I know we've said this on repeat... but what we had was different. Falling in love with you was life-altering. Is there a world in which Kyle and Josh eventually understand and hate us a little less? Where they understand we were raised in worlds where being gay wasn't an option? It wasn't even a consideration? That for decades we found ourselves wanting a man to want us, without really considering if we wanted the man? Is that something they can ever understand?  Not today... not with the hurt and anguish they are likely carrying in their chests. But can they ever?

Yesterday, I spent the day sleeping... curled up on the couch, in the fetal position, sleeping on and off. I didn't know I could sleep that many hours in a day.  I forgot to eat. I forgot to drink a single thing. I was the embodiment of someone who just lost the love of her life. And I didn't care that Kyle watched. He offered me food. He offered me drink. He put the blanket over me and made our bed ahead of waking me up and asking me to move to it.

This morning in bed, he decided to share some feelings.  He wondered outloud... "What does she have, that I don't?" "How did she reach you in ways that I haven't ever been able to?" "Is it fair for me to keep you from her?" He also said "The sensitive side of me wonders if you two should be together," and "I've watched you lose a best friend before... and I know how much and for how long it affects you.  But you didn't just lose your best friend... you lost your girlfriend... your lover. And for that, human to human, I am deeply sorry that you're feeling this much pain."

I didn't respond. I didn't refute a word he said. 

He told me that he loves me and that he always has and always will. He admitted that he hasn't done a great job in 20 years of showing me that. That he knows he hasn't been a great husband, or a good lover, and he hasn't given me the things I need. And while he wonders what you were able to give me, that made putting everything we have at risk... overall... he wonders if it's selfish to keep me from you, because I deserve that kind of love in my life. 

He even told me that if I chose you, "we'd figure it out". That all he's ever wanted was for me to be happy. And that the divorce wouldn't be messy. He'd help talk to the kids. That we'd figure it all out, because afterall, we've been friends for 20 years. Really, really, good friends.

There was no conclusion. I barely said anything. I listened to him and he meant everything he said. 

But then I wondered... what did she tell Josh? Did she tell him she had fallen in love with me? That you told me, regretted it, found out I felt the same and then we both subsequently freaked out? That we tried to find a way for us to be just friends. To lock away our feelings and maintain a friendship that we both so desperately wanted and needed. But then quickly found out the truth wasn't so easily kept in a box... and that our lives would never be the same?  

Or was the story different? Does he know it was love? Or does he think it was just curiosity that got out of hand? Is that how you save your family, by telling part of the truth in a way that doesn't feel as heavy, or as big as it was?

I wouldn't blame you. You were very clear from the beginning what the deal was. You loved him. You were going to spend the rest of his life with him, because you weren't going to let him down. And then we'd have us... even at 85. 

But then the conversation shifted over time... Do we just get our kids through school? Keep our families in tact long enough to get them off to college?  

And then finally, individually, we admitted that we both started wondering how much longer we could go home to other people...

Was it lust, Tracy? Limerence? Infatuation? Obsession? Confusing friendship for more? Enchantment? Fascination? Captivation? Addictive fixation?  Obsessive romantic attachment? Mid-life crisis? Idealization? 

Or was it love?  Because sitting here today, I don't just choose to believe it was love, because I promised you on that rooftop that I would. I know it was love. And I'm not sure what story you're telling yourself right now to get through the day. But just know that I'll try my hardest to believe this, for both of us, as long as I can. 

I miss you,

~Me