perhaps when I am feeling creative, I will follow in the footsteps of Sharelle.
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My January started with a bit of difficulty, though I'm not exceptionally proud to admit that "difficulty" part. Ex-Manfriend decided to pop himself back into my world, as he has often tried to do; only this time, he did it via email on New Year's Eve (I wouldn't answer his phone calls, you see). It was a lengthy post, including far-too-personal information from his world, apologies for not calling me more often (insert quizzically furrowed brow: here), and a jovial invitation to coffee. I read the full email and sat in silence for a minute, and decided I must be terrible at ending things with men; to date, they all seem to speak to me as though I still want them, long after I've wiped their dust off my feet.
In any case, I slept on my response, though I knew immediately what I was going to say. The first day of this new year started with a stretch, a yawn, and a bold, "Dear ExManfriend: please stop calling me, please do not show up at my old house anymore to look for me [because this actually happened!!], and no thanks to the coffee invite." Brazen response, I know...especially the part where I clarified for him that breaking up meant I didn't want to spend anymore time with him. Oof. I would have felt terrible, except that I didn't. In fact, I felt a little proud. Unfortunately, the old adage hints correctly; my pride would come before the fall.
"What happened?" he replied. "You are a mean person; go before God and repent!"
I would love nothing more than to tell you that his response to my polite but pointed request (to leave me alone) did not make me at one with my kitchen floor; but in fact, I lost it. I became a sobbing heap; a mere reflection of a woman that had apparently grown stronger since walking away. But "It is clear you do not know God. Repent, sinner!" can take the wind out of anyone; especially when the delivery is so...out of context. Admittedly, I cried. A lot. Then I drove to the drugstore after midnight and bought Neo Citran and a lottery ticket; and then I came home, downed the hot-lemon drink, and passed out gratefully in my bed.
Over the next few days, I took the time to process my reaction in depth. I spoke to any of my Trusted One's who would listen and soaked up whatever they said with ease; I was a sponge, desperate to figure out how I could have lost my footing so readily. What I discovered in my chest was a mix of embarassment, grief, and anger quickly dissipating. Mostly, however, I found shock; and this explained my reaction more than the others. The mirror'd reflection of that email's tone was no longer me, but I saw with horror that it once had been; I once taught a man to treat me so belittingly, by accepting it when he did. It was this recognition that hurt the most. I cried for what had been, and how small I had let me be.
It goes without saying that, like anything else, this story eventually became a source of great healing; and to no one's suprise: funny. 'Funny' was not the crying part, of course, but the "Yah, so I asked my ex to leave me alone, and he responded by saying I didn't know God" part...that part makes me laugh. I decided, once it amused me, that I should recount this story in writing; as an anecdote to a greater story, perhaps (though the greater story will, here, be implied). There is perhaps some sadness in my laugh, that men like this exist at all - that arrogance is allowed to rule in any measure that grandiose...however, there is much joy in my laughter too. I'm not small at all, ExManfriend; nor am I bigger than you. I'm just me; shaped and bettered by the leaving, and by the moving on, happily, too.
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