I heard a song by the Dixie Chicks which was written for a different purpose.  The refrain haunts me for their sentiments mirror my feelings.  

They sing:

“I’m not ready to make nice.  I’m not ready to back down ‘cuz I’m mad as hell and I don’t have time to go round and round and round.  It’s too late to make it right, wouldn’t do it if I could.  ‘Cuz I’m mad as hell and I don’t have time to do what it is you think I should.”

Conventional wisdom is to let it go and move on.  What is there to let go?  When the partner with whom you’ve been walking on the path changes course and doesn’t provide information you need to have to make informed choices about your own well being, it casts doubt on your ability to make any choice and standing still seems best.

Societal mores suggest we should forgive and forget.  Perhaps I shouldn’t feel angry about the emotional abuse I suffered every time I complained about not having my needs met during the years we spent together.  Perhaps it doesn’t matter that the man who claimed to love me and willingly accepted the role of being my source of emotional support while my mother was dying and had held me and made love to me a few nights before scoffed at my anguish about not wanting to be left alone on the night of her funeral by saying, “Wah! Wah! Wah!”  Perhaps I should forget how he raged at me in a public restaurant that day and told me to kill myself as he stormed away.  Perhaps I should forget he neglected to mention he had moved in with another woman weeks before.  Perhaps I should forget he feels no regret about any of it.

Because I love him, I persisted in my quest to understand.  He led me to believe he was with this new woman because they were setting up a business at her house.  He stayed up after she went to bed each night to correspond with me.  He seduced me into setting the topic of my mother’s funeral aside for a while by feigning distress about not having a soft landing for his musings.  I adapted and gave him what he wanted in hopes I would eventually get answers I needed to have.   He pontificated about his vast awareness of others’ needs and wants and how it was his choice whether or not to grant them.  His utter lack of empathy for my concerns were obvious. 

When I finally grew weary of his self importance and called him a liar, he asked what he had lied about.  I chose to remind him of a conversation, after the funeral, when I specifically asked if he had decided to move in with his partner and he had answered he was just getting some things done.  All he said to this was, “So what?”  The email exchange slowed down a great deal after that conversation.  When I wrote again and asked for honesty, he replied that it wasn’t complicated and asked me to let it go and move on. 

Of course it isn’t complicated for him.  He chooses to not self examine because, in this case, he could not avoid seeing his imperfections.  He’s found a new source of Narcissistic supply and a safe place to hide from the wreckage of his past.

We hope, when we are in our 50s, that we are dealing with a responsible adult when we choose to give the gift of love and become vulnerable.   Although I used to characterize him as being childlike, he is nothing more than a child in a man’s body.