Quitter

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I don’t quit.

I am awfully stubborn in my determination to make things work. I come by this naturally, from my father. He will spend two weeks poking around the control panel of the dishwasher, forcing the family of eight to hand wash dishes until, finally, he finds the problem and fixes it. Or buys a new dishwasher. The man exhausts all possibilities before he throws in the towel.

I’m like that.

Sometimes it’s a good thing. I’m persistent in my work and my clients reap the benefits. I enjoy coming up with new ways to think about old problems. And when I make a commitment I will do everything it takes to honor it.

Sometimes it’s not such a good thing. I over-analyze. I exhaust myself thinking of ways to solve a problem, change a situation or make it work to my advantage, when I probably should walk away and forget about it.

It’s like my marriage: Counseling and homework and communication exercises and all that. I did them. I tried. I kept going. And I still felt horribly betrayed and hateful toward the person who wasn’t smart enough to realize that I will suffer nearly anything as long as it’s not a secret.

The problem wasn’t him, it was me. But I kept trying to get okay with being deceived and humiliated. Surely there must be a way to just let that go.

There was.

I let him go. I made him go.

The fact that he continues to deceive me and disappoint our children is a testament that I made the right decision.

Letting go of something or someone is hard for me because it is tantamount to admitting failure.

I do not fail.

I miss feeling secure with a partner. I miss believing in someone and trusting them with my life. I miss doing something particularly unpleasant and enjoying it, simply because I was not alone in my misery.

There are times when I am very alone.

And I do not want to admit failure.

So I keep going.

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Filed under Frustration, Writing