How not to drown in the dream of us

From almost the moment Novice had broken up with me, she was comfortable in my presence again. We could talk, and smile, and hug, so easily and comfortably. No walking on egg shells, no uncomfortable tension, just.. Ease. Talking about everything and nothing, serious and light. We sat up for hours that last night, just talking with each other, and it was so important. We haven't been able to consistently talk like that for... I don't know..? A year? Maybe even more. It was so easy, and so nice, and reminded me how much I love talking with her and just.. Being with her.

In those last two weeks before the break-up, she hadn't said that she loved me. In the last few months, she'd flinched at my touch. Pulled away from me. I would have to beg for any sort of physical contact, any sort of connection at all. However, once we were over as a couple, she was suddenly back. Back to being the person I fell in love with in the first place. That warm, open, bright, charismatic, wonderful woman. She was suddenly someone who'd reach out to me, touch me, hold me... Talk to me!

After breaking up with me, she was even able to tell me that she loved me again. That hurt, but I was also really, really relieved to hear it. It wasn't just me; She loved me back, and she hurt too. She'd tap it out, in our tactile language (3-5 taps meaning "I love you"), but during our last hug before I walked out the door she even managed to use her voice to say it.

I don't think I'd heard her voice "I love you" in... Months. She's more comfortable communicating without words, and I'd gotten used to that. But her choosing, and being able, to use her voice in that moment.. It mattered a lot to me. I know she did it for my sake, and I'm very grateful she did. It felt like a final gift.

During those last 24 hours, as I packed up our life together, separated her things from mine, and prepared to move out, I even saw her cry. Repeatedly. I'd seen her go teary-eyed before, but never truly seen her cry. The fact that she was both able to feel those emotions without running from them, and was comfortable enough in my presence to actually let those feelings show.. That was really special. The emotional closeness we shared in those last 24 hours, felt more intimate and more real than what we'd had in months. 

I didn't change after she dumped me, I'm fairly certain of that. This change was all her. I have no idea why she wasn't as relaxed, or as present, or as emotionally close with me before. I have no idea why that would change in a heartbeat, the moment we weren't a couple anymore. I don't understand this. But I don't have to: She was clearly better off when we weren't together. That's enough.

I saw her yesterday, accidentally. She was walking on a path nearby with a common friend of ours. They saw me some distance away, and waved in greeting, but I could tell she didn't enjoy seeing me. She really didn't look ok. She looked tired, pale and frazzled. Her eyes were distant, no feelings on her face. Like when she's dissociating really badly. I worry about her.

I wish I could be there for her. Comfort her. Be someone she can lean on, confide in. Help her open up and confront her emotions, like she did during our last day together.. Support her as she grieves and moves on, in stead of just pushing the emotions away. But I know I can't.

I'm the reason she's grieving. If I'd been there with her now, it would just prolong her pain (and mine, but I'd be willing to take that, if doing so could help her). Our feelings for each other need to die down, and all that emotional intimacy would only put more fuel on the fire. Those last 24 hours reminded me, reminded us, of why we got together in the first place. Really highlighted all the good stuff, all the ways we connect and understand each other. It felt.. Effortless. And that's dangerous. It would tempt us to want to try again.

And we can't do that. 

Yes, I miss her desperately. Yes, I wish I could be with her again, wish we could be a couple again. But in so doing, I focus only on the good parts, and not the bad. I'm fooling myself; We can't be what I want us to be. I grasp onto that fact like a life-raft, as the ache I feel for her tries to pull me into the depths, and drown me in the dream of us. 

I can't shut out that alluring siren's song completely. So in stead, I set time constraints in my mind: Yes, I want her, yes I dream of being with her again, but I can't be or do that NOW. We aren't good for each other NOW. In stead, I let myself dream of a future where things are different: A future where we're friends with benefits, rope partners, play partners, maybe even in some sort of romantic relationship.. But a looser one than what we had. Less entangled, less all-encompassing. 

I have never had a romantic relationship like that, frankly I'm not sure if balancing the romantic desire for closeness with her needs from freedom and space, is something I'll be able to do... But it's a dream. The ache I feel for her needs some sort of outlet, and that's the dream I'm allowing myself to have. To dream, to ache, and to not let myself go under; That's also a balancing act. 

I can't be with her. I can't help her. I know she's hurting right now, and hate myself and feel terribly guilty about not being there for her, but that doesn't change anything. She needs to handle this on her own, and so do I. But damn, I wish it wasn't so.