True North. Returning to Me.

No, not mine. He lacks empathy and consideration for others (other than the  singular person  in his orbit at  any given  time in his life), but  I’m not calling him crazy. Well, maybe. But I bet he’s desperately paint ing  the picture that I am  right now , just like his last two (only two) long-term girlfriends ,  who he moved in with as fast as possible and had or raised children alongside ,  were “crazy”. This blog post isn’t about those women, but I believe they both deserve a deep and humble apology. Because, knowing what I know now? I  am  pretty certain  they’re not crazy either. Did I hear stories that made them sound unhinged? Yes. Threats, desperate behavior like throwing his belongings from their shared home on the lawn or destroying a dozen  gifted  roses in anger, fights that lodged children squarely in the middle…  Did he tell me those stories to explain away what might have otherwise been perceive...

 I've found it harder and harder to write lately. When I was raging, the feelings and therefore the words were easy. Because it was justified rage and that's all it was in the moment. I always say that anger is nearly always a mask for other emotions. As rage does, it started to fade into more honest, and far more complicated emotions.  I found myself in an alternating loop of writings that felt like petty drags on someone who doesn't care and baring deep wounds to my core, inflicted by someone who doesn't care. Maybe he cares, you say. Maybe he too is struggling to navigate this new normal (that he created by pretending he didn't have his girlfriend living in our house with him until I figured it out via texts to my kids, Instagram feeds, and kissy videos)!  I say nah. If he cared, he would have kept up with the two weeks where he texted our daughter daily (though not our son because that's not as satisfying because he isn't as interested in the brag photos...