The Queen of All Fools

Relief is saying what you know to be true out loud. This - whatever it was - didn't work. Not for me. Not for him. Not for anyone. I lived for months trying to be someone and something I wasn't. Trying to please and failing at every turn. Giving more and getting less, killing my joy with each bitter disappointment.

I was a woman in love with the idea of being in love. I couldn't say no to the opportunity he offered. And I knew even as I made my decision to leave my home last October, and the only life I've known for the past ten years, that to do so would be a horrible mistake. One I've regretted from the very moment I made it.

Inside my head I tried to rationalize my decision, telling myself that life is about taking chances and exposing myself to new experiences. But what I really think, is that I was so scared of trying to continue on alone that I told myself what I wanted to hear. But life is also about listening to that little voice inside your head that never lies or tries to steer you in the wrong direction. Only fools ignore their own voice of warning. And I cannot be gentle with myself and say that I haven't acted the fool.

And I'm so scared to death over what needs to happen now. The prospect of leaving this house, the house that could have been my home had there been love to fill its rooms rather than the cold indifference that flourished here. And it's no wonder that I feel sick to my stomach, and my head feels as if it's caving in. I had so much riding on hope. But hope isn't enough to make a relationship work when one person wants more than the other is willing to give. I wanted more and I'm not ashamed to say it. I wanted love. Perhaps I wanted the one thing he was incapable of.

And I think that maybe he doesn't know how to love. (And maybe just by saying this, it somehow makes it easier for me to explain why he didn't want me.) Just as he doesn't know how to listen. I think of everything I've said tonight and know that there are words I'm sure he didn't hear. But what good are words to me when they don't make a difference anyway? Words will not change what needs to happen next. Words will not make him suddenly realize that losing me - this time - is a permanent situation that won't be undone. His second chance has been and gone and I have no more left to give.

But the most painful part of this mess for me is knowing that I've caused my daughter unnecessary heartache of her own. I know it hasn't been easy for her to see her Mother turn into an emotional car wreck on two feet and that despite my attempts to shield her from my tears, she saw them all the same. And for this she worried. And spent those night worrying, tossing and turning in her own bed until it got too much for her and she with blanket in hand came stealing into mine.

Heartbreak is when your ten year old daughter climbs into bed with you at two in the morning so she can whisper into your ear that she wishes that we could go back home, to our cozy little house out in the country, with the big flat field outside our front door and the smell of farm fresh in the air with Grandpa right down the road. I'm ashamed to think what my daughter has learned about her Mother in such a short time. Instead of the strong and confident woman I wanted to portray, I've shown her the definition of weak and spineless. And no matter how I fix this situation, she will always carry a piece of it with her. Her Mother's folly. My greatest mistake.