#21 | self-defense
I dreamt about her again, though the details of it already faded away with the morning as I rushed to work. The exhaustion from finding a new apartment is hitting me hard.
Anger has found its way into my life. I realized I was saying yes to responsibilities that I didn't want. I took on taking care of our cats for 2-3 months, even though she's keeping them in the end, and I volunteered to sell her couch and desk. I kept allowing her to come by and grab her things when I wasn't there, though it pained me to communicate when I would or wouldn't be home, to know when she was available or not available, and then of course return to the apartment and have the unstoppable urge to take mental inventory of what she took and what she didn't. It’s like having the ground crumble away beneath me, my life being disassembled piece by piece. All of this while finding a new roommate and looking for a new apartment, while sleeping in our shared space and cleaning up after our messy housemate for lease takeover tours. I felt like I was going insane.
The first few times I let her stop by and grab things were a courtesy, but my patience ran out. The last time she came by, she left the last gift I gave her on our dresser. I hated this action, even if it was well-intended. I despised that it was done to me without my permission, and astounded that she didn't realize how much it would hurt me—or that she did realize, but decided her own discomfort with the gift was greater than the pain it would cause me to return it. I politely told her to text and ask me if I wanted something back first, instead of putting it in my possession.
Yesterday, she asked if she could come by twice this week. I felt a surge of anger. I wanted to snap and lash out over text. I sat at a cafe in the afternoon to do work with my friend but couldn't focus, instead crying into coarse coffee napkins and typing out a furious letter, one that I plotted to handwrite and then dramatically give to her upon moving out, one that detailed how she had completely disrespected me and I never wanted to hear from her ever again until she apologized for it all. My friend talked me down from that and said I would regret it. That was kind of him.
Instead, I told her I planned to move ASAP (true) and would not be taking care of the cats and did not have time to sell her things, and since my leaving early should give her plenty of opportunity to grab her stuff, that I preferred she not come by the apartment anymore until I move out. I also asked her to take on one of the tours of our apartment so I could have some free time to myself, and requested she take the gift back again. She agreed to both and apologized for the latter.
It felt so relieving to restore autonomy to myself, though I immediately felt guilty. I realized I was originally saying yes to all of these tasks so she would see me in a better light, so she would like me more, to increase the chances of getting back together. Would relinquishing them prove her right, that I wasn't reliable after all? Would it make me unlikable? The answer is no, I must remind myself. I proved myself already and she simply could not see it. I can have boundaries too. Whether we get back together is not my concern right now—survival is. I initially thought my grief was a magnitude smaller than hers and therefore I should of course have greater capacity for these tasks. But things aren't quantifiable in this manner. I have a life that needs repair as well, and I need to exercise autonomy where I have it.
I went to get my hair touched up yesterday after touring apartments. I go to a salon that is far away from me, and it was an exhausting trek after all the tours, but it's near my friend, so it's a good excuse to see him. When I arrived at his apartment, he was in the middle of making his signature earl grey snickerdoodles, and I had a few freshly baked bites as he talked about his own life and kept things forward-thinking. It felt good to actively be a friend to someone else, instead of sucking the energy out of every conversation, like I have been recently. We went out for dinner and he told me he was thinking of reconnecting with his college ex. He said that they broke up because at the time he thought there was distance and she wasn't the life partner he wanted, but that over the years it seems that they've both changed in positive ways. Looking back, he said, their foundation was good, so he was curious to see how it would feel to talk. Then he said he looked forward to seeing me explore dating again, whenever I was ready.
After, I treated myself to a car home, mapped out a floor plan of my future bedroom, and tried to determine whether it would fit all of my things. It wouldn't. I shut my laptop, curled up with our cats on the couch, and fell asleep, knowing it would be one of the last times I get to do so next to them. I didn't cry, but I did think about the possibility of never waking up.