free falling

I'm stunned. Free falling one minute, soaring the next. Then free falling again. Yesterday's Jesus Calling was perfect, as it so often is. I'd fallen several days behind and didn't read it until today when Abbie read it to me. The highlighted part is especially amazing to me, in light of last night's events. It's pretty cool to read it today, knowing that "whatever this day may bring" was heartache that I didn't think I'd experience again. I really didn't. I really thought that if he decided it was over, I'd feel relief. I didn't. I thought that I wouldn't feel devastated again. I did. I thought he'd choose to honor our vows and to honor God. He thumbed his nose at both of those things. I am still reeling.

We sat in Carraba's eating pasta and seafood. The conversation was pleasant. He asked about Fortress. I asked about his weekend trip that he took to "figure things out". I was preparing myself for him to tell me he wanted to come back home and try to work this out. My concern was that I would say no, not yet, you haven't made any changes - and that THAT would be dishonoring to God. But I think I knew deep down that he was already gone. I just didn't think the man I once knew would walk away so easily.

And because of what?? It's nothing I've done. Have I been the perfect wife? No. I have a mouth on me. It's my first line of defense against Darren. No one else has taken a lashing like he has. I admit that and I've repented of it. But I loved him. UNCONDITIONALLY. He is a hard, hard man to love. He's selfish, condescending, lazy, unmotivated, and prideful. He could list as many things about me that are hard to love. Can't we all? But those are the "for worses". For better or for worse. You love each other anyway.

He's leaving because he has convinced himself that he never loved me. Everyone who knows us and has ever known us knows that's not true. But it's true for Darren. He has to believe it to allow himself to leave.

He's leaving because he has convinced himself that he deserves passion. He defines his perfect passionate mate as someone who understands him and appreciates him and loves him, and someone who he understands and appreciates and can love. I said, "I used to be that for you." He replied tersely, "You were never that for me."

I asked him if there's someone else. He said no. I said, "Is there someone else you're interested in?" He said, "Hmmm.........no." I asked what that pause was supposed to mean. "Are you waiting to be free so you can pursue someone?" He said, "There are lots of people I could feel passionate toward. I deserve to be happy."

"I deserve to be loved," I said.
"Yes, you do," he answered. "And that's part of why I'm leaving you. I can't love you. I see lots of men who are attracted to you. I'm just not one of them."

I sat in the restaurant and begged God for words. None came. Well, they did. Lots of words came, but they weren't from God. So I finally said, "I don't have anything good to say, so I'm going to leave now." I gathered my purse and my confidence, and walked graciously out of the restaurant, past the window where he sat, to my car, around the corner, and then I let it go. I wept all the way home.

Twenty-one years.
Over.

I want to hate him, but I can't. I love him. And that pisses me off most of all.