Today I sat with Broken Promises

Broken promises.

Today as I sat during my quite time this phrase kept popping up.

I noticed how this affected me most through tension I felt from the tightness in my neck, the clenching in my jaw and the heavy weight on my hunched shoulders.

It's strange how my shoulders can feel so heavy and still find their way to hang out with my ears all at the same time.  Sometimes I feel like I'm slowly morphing into the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

I took a deep breath and tried to straighten my posture a bit to relieve some of the pain.  I took another breath and settled in.

Broken promises.  The words just keep bouncing around.

In preparation for the move I've been sorting through piles of papers and a few old boxes in the attic. Multiple times I've come across old anniversary cards or birthday cards that I received from my ex.  I have not taken time to read through all of them. Honestly I've only glanced inside a couple of them and then only for a moment.  The handwriting is all too familiar and the words are all to lovely.

Each time I would notice tears coming to my eyes.

I don't really miss him anymore.  I have dealt with that specific part of this already.  I am comfortable being by myself now and familiar with the idea of being a single adult. Missing him is not where the tears come from.

Broken promises.

That seems to be the specific thing I'm having trouble working with. I don't even know that I fully understand it myself.  I don't miss my ex, but I'm still brought to tears when I am reminded of the love he had for me and the loss of future dreams. I find it baffling and rather irritating.

Over the weekend my ex stopped by to pick up my youngest for a few hours.  When he dropped her back off he asked about getting copies made of all the photo albums and scrapbooks I'd made over the years. Of course I had already put them all in boxes for the move.  He asked to take the boxes, make copies, repack, and return them.

I showed him where they were stacked in the garage and he loaded them into his car.  He'll bring them back. I'm not worried about that.  But the whole process was extremely difficult and infuriating for me.

The thought I had was, "Why does he care about having the pictures? This is what he threw away." And the child in me didn't want to share, didn't feel like he deserved his share.

As he drove off I found myself standing in the laundry room crying, tears streaming down my face.  I was not really sure why I was angry and crying, but there I stood, snot and all.

I have not been able to look at the old photo albums much since all of this began. They all held such wonderful memories that now seem tainted.  The few moments I have looked at an album I notice that instead of reminding me of all the fun moments that were captured, all I see is how it feels fake and shallow now.  

Broken promises.

We were a family.  We were always supposed to be a family.  I have grieved the loss of my partner, but somehow the loss of my family still breaks my heart.  He broke promises to me, to us, to all five of us.  I'm crying now as I write this, and I'm angry that I'm crying.

I'm so ready to be over all of this.  I don't want to sit with these feelings.  I don't want to feel the pain.  I don't want to notice anything about any of this.  I don't want to wipe any more snot from my face.  I'm tired of crying.

I don't want to have broken promises. I didn't break them and I can't put them back together.

I'm not the Hunchback.  I'm Humpty Dumpty.

And did I mention, I'm tired.