An Open Letter to My Ex

Dear John,

Over the past month, I've had a lot of things put on my plate. My grandfather was hospitalized and subsequently passed away. You had what you continually refer to as "The Incident," and what I refer to as "The Catalyst." We broke up. I drove over 1600 miles in 10 days, and 99% of that was by myself. I gained an inbox of 700+ emails. I generally consider myself a strong, capable person who is able to keep a civil tongue in her head through most situations.

We are now at the point where I no longer care about that civil tongue.

When we broke up on Nov. 1, I told you that I needed time and space. I had to tell you multiple times, in multiple ways, that this was it. That we were done. That you needed to go away. That you needed to go away right now. And if you didn't want to go away right now, I would stay the night at a friend's because I was incapable of sleeping in the same bed as you without doing you bodily harm. For the record, when someone says "You really don't want to have this conversation right now, because you will not like it" what they're really saying is "Shut up and leave me alone because if you don't, you won't like the results." Which, frankly, is pretty clear from the original statement.

You finally took the hint, because when I returned from dinner with my friends, you were gone. Two days later, I found an email in my inbox, that spouted such inane, defensive and pseudo-rationalizing drivel that I'm fairly certain a half-dozen of your beloved writers rolled over in their graves. I did not immediately reply, as I was now dealing with the knowledge that my grandfather had a broken pelvic bone, and that I should maybe start thinking about coming home.

The following day, I found a rather offensive email via facebook from your charming sister. While I completely understand the need to vent and talk to family and friends during a time of crisis, what I don't understand is how certain information failed to make its way to your sister, such as the fact that the relationship had essentially been on probation for a month, that my family has been personally affected by our own version of "The Incident," and that your poor decision making abilities were the reason for "The Incident"/"The Catalyst" and our subsequent breakup. Not only do you blame an innocuous inanimate third party for "The Incident," but you somehow gave your sister the impression that you were in, and I quote,"[a] devastating, heartbreaking dark place full of fear," to which she empathizes.

To which I would like to reply, very simply: Bullshit. First of all, the issues your sister is facing stem from some serious psychological and medical problems. She is getting help, though it took some serious scares and consequences to get her where she needed to be. You, on the other hand, are just an idiot. There is no excuse imaginable for what you did, and what you continue to do.

You have claimed that you wish to pursue friendship after the dust has settled. I cannot understand, then, why you continue to antagonize me to the point where I feel that I must issue deadlines, ultimatums and cold words of refusal to help you. I am indeed neutral with several exes, friends with one of them, and I helped another get a summer job mere months after we stopped dating: I am proud of these facts. I, and they, cooled off enough after the initial anger and hurt to realize that we were not meant to be, for whatever reason. We may say spiteful things in the heat of the moment, but in the end, we did not wish each other ill because we were adults.

But I am currently not inspired to cool down and look back fondly, and with a sigh, state "Well, there were good parts and bad parts, but I learned something and we're OK now." Instead, I'm prone to disparaging comments and rhetorical questioning of your judgment, both concerning "The Incident" and all of your actions following.

Most people, upon breaking up, vacate the premises and disseminate the bonds as quickly as they can. I prefer to also do it with with a modicum of tact, restraint and some goodwill thrown in for good measure. I even conveniently removed myself from my home for 20 days in the month of November. Granted, this was not because I'm that nice of a person. I am blessed to have good friends who held me when I needed it most, who asked me to stay with them so that I would not be quite so alone. One of them was recovering from a fairly serious surgery, and still had the capacity of heart to simply ask in the moments after I found out about my grandfather's passing, "Do you need to come stay the night?" It was asked without a second thought to her own physical discomfort. If that is not true friendship, I don't know what it is. On my trips to and from Indiana, the kindly parents of family friends let me stay in their spare room, to ease my burden. If that is not true charity, I don't know what that is, either.

Perhaps then, you can imagine my surprise when I came home in the middle of the month, after being completely gone from the region (much less my home) for almost 2 weeks, and I find that nothing much more, other than the bare bones you took with you on Nov. 1, is gone from the apartment. Your dirty clothing in my hamper, your shoes still jumbled up with mine, shirts still hanging in my armoire and your DVDs still in the living room. Your excuse? That you did not feel comfortable removing your belongings from the apartment while I was not there.

What did you think would happen? That I would accuse you of stealing something? Yes, you've shown poor judgment but you don't have a penchant for larceny. If you had questions about what was mine and what was yours, a compiled, emailed list would have sufficed. I was busy with my family and being in mourning while I was home in Indiana, but I still answered several emails about personal and work issues. I was actively updating facebook, so you cannot claim that you thought I was completely out of reach. We live in a very connected world, and everyone who knows me also knows that my iPhone is quite literally attached at my hip, usually in the right back pocket.

I then vacated my home for another week to pet sit for some of those wonderful friends I mentioned earlier. I'm not sure that I expressly told you that I would be hanging out with two dogs at someone else's home for a week, but again, social networking clues left behind by these mutual friends of ours would have told you that if they're in Miami, someone else is with their dog. A phone call, text or email would have also easily given you the information that I was not going to be around. I'm sure that you were busy for part of that week with all of the travel and family things that happen with Thanksgiving, as was I, but that still left you with Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday at your disposal, easily.

You did come get some of your things, albeit while I was between absences. Your reasoning of not wanting to be there alone is the complete opposite of mine. I do not wish to interact with you right now. I had thought that I had made that clear during the break up. Perhaps you're just unusually dense. Or perhaps, more disturbingly, you don't care about what I need and want right now. We all deal with grief and anger and hurt in different ways. My method includes avoiding that which hurt me for a while. That you so blatantly disregard my feelings and needs after everything I've been through in the past 33 days is proof that you do not actually want to be friends. Friends listen and offer what is needed, even if it's not completely understood.

What made that first interaction after the break up even more special was that you tried to talk to me. No, I don't mean the pleasant banalities that were politely exchanged. You ignored my refusal to "talk about things." ("Then don't.") You attempted to do a post-mortem on the relationship, as I stood there in my kitchen with a bleach bottle in one hand and a green scrubbie in the other. At first I couldn't believe that you were actually doing this while I stood holding a bottle of chemicals that could easily blind you; then, realizing that if I let this continue, we would end up in an unholy argument that would only serve to scare the wits out of my already thoroughly confused dog. And if there is one thing I cannot stand, it is the thought of causing my dog pain. So I cut you off. I told you, curtly and angrily, that you do not get a project review of relationships, and that if you wanted to do that with someone, to go see a therapist. Yes, the words were cruel and intended to hurt you. They were also intended to get you to shut the hell up.

Since then, the communications and interactions have continued to disintegrate. A month after the breakup, with two boxes of stuff still hanging out in my living room, I finally issued an ultimatum. Out by Thursday. What you don't know is that I also emailed the landlord, who offered and was fully prepared to change the locks at a moment's notice for me. I said thanks but no thanks; I only wanted him to be aware of the situation, and to help me figure out what my next legal steps were as a tenant with stuff I didn't want.

You, in turn, have issued your own ultimatum: that the couch that your father has been graciously storing for me needs to be out by Dec. 18. I can understand his/your desire to have it removed, but please note that you offered me pictures to post on craigslist, at the beginning of November. They never appeared. Now, I have an ultimatum (complete with words like "verdict" and "responsibility" that I find highly ironic) to deal with in addition to the list of crap in my life that I didn't ask for, but am dealing with as best I can.

The situation, though similar on the surface, is actually quite different and in my opinion, not quite fair. You had a month, for most of which I was not home, to remove your life from mine. I, on the other hand, went home to deal with my grandfather's death. I arranged a memorial service. I sang at my grandfather's interment. I read a poem for his friends and family at the retirement home. I reconnected with family. I held hands, I gripped a steering wheel, I asked for thoughts and prayers to be offered up on behalf of my family. I came home, sang in a concert, cooked for the concert, and have worked for my choir extensively as we work to solve serious issues. I walked dogs, taught a child to cook and played with trains and Legos. I have made Christmas gifts, cosigned on a loan for my sister, and advanced her some money to get through a rough patch right now. My life right now is consumed with the care and needs of others, in addition to my own weighty issues. What have you done in the last month? I will not sit with bated breath, because seeing Trans-Siberian Orchestra with your friend doesn't really count as a volunteer activity or a service to others.

What it all comes down to, John, is that you have always been a person who doesn't know how to look beyond your own immediate needs and comforts. You didn't volunteer anywhere until I encouraged to join the Peabody Volunteer corp with me. You didn't think to learn to cook until I practically demanded that you buy "Cooking for Dummies." You didn't know how to paint a wall or hang kitchen hardware until we did it together. You'd never been to an opera before I snagged free tickets to Live at the Met, and listening to Baroque music wasn't something you'd thought about on your own until I asked you to come to my concerts. You live a life that is incredibly stagnant and devoid of exploration outside of your comfort zone. I had to call your mother for you, to get your Passport finally completed with her address and phone number, for heaven's sake. This doesn't mean you're a terrible person. It just means that you're content to live in a small circle of experiences.

I am not like that. I never have been, and I never will be. That's why it didn't work out. "I want adventure in the great wide somewhere, I want it more than I can stand," was sung by a brunette heroine in one of my favorite fairy tales. Like Belle, it's not that I'm dissatisfied with everything all the time; it's that I refuse to settle for mediocre when I know that fantastic exists. We were not fantastic. We were nice, and cute, and.... that's about it. We learned things from each other, and unfortunately, we've also managed to learn how to hurt each other quite a bit. I'm sorry that I've said mean things and that you've felt the need to retaliate. But I'm not sorry it's over. It would have ended eventually, it just ended a lot more explosively than I ever wanted or needed it to. Catalysts tend to cause serious flash-bang chemical reactions, and that's what happened.

I write this with the knowledge that as an open letter, many, many people will have access to read and review my thoughts and words. I therefore choose my words carefully, as my potential audience includes my parents, siblings, other family members, coworkers, friends old and new, professors, and student workers.

This isn't a contest. It's a statement. It's a request for at least a temporary truce while I work on getting my life back into some semblance of order. I'm not asking for or expecting a reply. This is after all, a form of therapy for me.

I don't expect us to be friends someday in the future. I'm ok with that. I do wish you health, luck and love in your life, and your friends and family be as supportive to you in your times of need as mine have been for me.

Erin