WINK: Breaking Up Isn’t Hard to Do

I may be in the wrong, but this is all his fault

Sonja

I got busted. It's that simple. I was doing the unthinkable, and my man busted me. No, I don't mean that after weeks of hearing me complain about my big, fat, dumpy ass, he caught me at midnight with my face in the icebox—a slice of pizza hanging out of my mouth, a pint of Ben & Jerrys in one hand and half of a cheese cake in the other. No, this was a lot more serious.


He left me alone in his apartment and I tossed the place. I snooped through every drawer, every closet, every box, every picture book. I was searching for clues that would help confirm my paranoid delusions that he is a no-good, lying, sneaking, cheating jerk face. My reasons for doing this were two-fold: He seemed too good to be true, so I had to find some shred of evidence that would prove otherwise. If I snooped and turned something up, Id finally have the ammunition I needed to dump him before he found out that Im really not the totally together, confident, intrepid woman he thought I was and dumped me first! And, secondly, Im psycho.


Ive mentioned before that all women are psycho in some way, shape or form. It comes with the Va-judy, you can't have one without the other.


And, Ill even go as far as to say that any woman who denies this well known fact is not only psycho, but also a compulsive liar and should be watched even closer than your average, everyday, psychotic female. But what I failed to mention is that if we women are psycho, its because somewhere along the line, some man made us that way! Yes, at some point in our lives, we were trusting, vulnerable and naive, and some jackass that we loved ripped our heart out and shat upon it. This rendered us completely incapable of trusting men and their smooth, wily ways ever again. In short, every man that follows said jackass will have to pay, to some degree, for the first guys impudence. Sorry, I didnt make the rules.


So there I sat, as bold as you please, in his apartment reading through the journal Id found on my snooping expedition. Inside were letters he'd written— but never sent—to another woman. The most recent letter had been written only two short weeks ago. While he was MY boyfriend. In the letters, he described his feelings for her and his desire to be closer to her. And even though the last and most recent letter said clearly, "Although I will always carry a special place in my heart for you, Ive found my true love in Sonja," I refused to comprehend what that meant. I only saw what I wanted to see, and that was that he had strong feelings for someone else—recently. I felt sick to my stomach. But not nearly as sick as I felt when I looked up and saw him standing over me. Busted!


This is where things get sticky. Being that I am not only a psychotic female, I am also a manipulative old cow, when I saw a look on his face that in my mind read complete disappointment and utter betrayal, I did the quick-flip trick. I quickly slammed the journal shut and started screaming accusations at him. Hoping that by acting completely insane, Id be able to shift blame for the situation and make him feel as though he were the bad guy in all this snooping mess.


Before he could say one word about my bad, bad behavior, I screamed things like: "How could you?" "I cant tell you how hurt I am!" "I feel like such a fool!" "Why didnt you tell me that you felt that way about her?" And finally, the ultimate zinger, "Im leaving!"


I then proceeded to pack my bags, crying all the while, because mind you, I was the victim in all of this. Id done such a good job blame shifting that I actually started to believe I was justified in my behavior. Had I stayed, I would have been enlightened to the fact that he didnt care that Id snooped, but he wasnt about to put up with my childish outburst. He didnt fall for the old quick-flip trick. So the laugh was on me.


Four days later, when he still hadnt called, I started to reassess the situation. I called my best friend, Sasha, my yoga teacher and spiritual mentor. I was hoping for an ally. What I got was an invitation for introspection.


"Sonja, its easy to drift apart or go separate ways whenever an unwillingness to forgive comes between us. The way back together is clearly marked on the path of love," she said.


"Plain English, please," I retorted.


"What you did was wrong, in order to make things right, you have to apologize. And then you should ask yourself why you have such a self-destructive nature; why you look for trouble where there is none. Love flows from the spirit within us. As we forgive, we open our hearts and our lives to others. Perhaps the forgiveness you seek stems from your need to forgive yourself and those who have harmed you in the past." I love her.


She did everything but call me Young Grasshopper, but she made her point. Id have to let go of the past and make peace with it before it ruined my future. I swallowed hard, choking down the crow I was eating as I dialed Jays number. I needed to say the only two words I should have said the day he caught me snooping, "Im sorry."


They say that breaking up is hard. I beg to differ. Breaking up is easy, its the making up thats hard to do.



Sonja is a writer who covers the ins and outs of relationships. Or is it the ups and downs?

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