One of the few things C said to me after the initial reveal was not to ghost on her. “Don’t disappear.”
And I didn’t.
I would periodically call and send love notes over the first forty days of my Odyssey in an attempt to reassure her that, as Esther Perel would say, “You are the one. You have always been the one.” I was trying to communicate I value her in my life and my behavior was not a reflection on her.
Not every moment. Not every day. I was trying to give her time until she was ready. In response, she sent me a couple of notes telling me she loves me and was heartbroken.
Since then? Silence.
Somewhere what is intended as a sincere, heartfelt passionate outreach started to be described by others as part of a harassing, controlling, and dark pattern. If anyone is hijacking the narrative it is those people projecting their issues onto our relationship without any experience inside our home, finances, history, or sex life.
I became someone with pathological issues and she became a victim.
The arrogance of that perspective is that it assumes C, in her jealousy, grief, and pain, isn’t smart enough to know what she needs and wants. After all, as a liar and adulterer, I’m clearly a real catch.
For weeks I’ve been swinging between:
1. It’s my fault. I did all of this. Her ghosting is the consequence of my infidelity
2. But after 7 years?! Not a fight? A fuck you?! Not one question?! It must be a fair weather relationship! She wasn’t really committed! She loves me when I take her dancing and set up her booth but when it gets hard she abandons Us. She abandons me.
Repeat all night.
It is entirely likely she looked at the totality of our relationship and decided there was nothing of value to salvage.
As such, ghosting makes perfect sense.
Is it any wonder I’m not sleeping? My brain is trying to kill me.