No, not silly at all!She recognize the childShe loves as much inside youShe she also fearsThat for being such a young childYou play with dangerous things.Do you really think thatYou are prepared For whatYou are looking for?You are naive or are you not?If not, are you trying to play with fire?Are you prepared to play the firemanIf the house burn inside?I do not believe you are, are You?Ah beautiful child,Why have you had to rebirth from the ashes?~ Her
That was the poem She wrote to me, in Her sweet English, after my 101 emails to Her while She was away. It was one piece of the sparse response I received from Her.
She’s right, you know. I have been playing with fire–a hot, passionate Fire–that I’m not prepared to put out once it has its way. I won’t leave my family for Her, even if there are moments that I would drop everything to go to Her. Overall, I won’t.
I promised Her I would not pull on Her again, yet I did. So unfair.
In one of our “Go Away” times, She scolded me for not being courageous enough to acknowledge my feelings, my heart, my desires and leave for Her. In some ways, She was right. And, my feelings did indeed become more public than I preferred, when my husband found our emails to each other. He would have let me go to Her.
But I said no. And this is where She was wrong. It is easy to be with Her. My kids aren’t around, my husband’s needs aren’t around, even my career was set aside during those beautiful days I was with Her. That was easy. No one knew but She and I that We were sharing the best moments of Our lives together. It was so easy, so lovely.
No, that wasn’t courageous. Amazing, but not courageous.
What takes courage is for me to look at my children and realize I need them more than they need me, and that perhaps losing me would alter their life course in some devastating way.
It takes courage to be my husband’s wife, to live up to his expectations that I do the best I can for myself in this life I have been given. He doesn’t need me to be perfect. He needs me to honor myself.
And that takes courage.
Here’s the deal: I had a choice of two wonderful lives: One with Her, and one with my family.
Choosing one, I lose the other. Neither one is better than the other, although my best-friend-who-is-also-a-lesbian would think I was losing part of myself if I chose to let Her go. But if it was appropriate to ask my children, what would they say?
No, I have said before, I don’t have the constitution to do both. She now knows everything I wanted her to know all these months, why I blocked all contact with Her. The last two weeks has been pent-up anxiety splashing all over these pages. It’s out. It’s done.
Her small response to my huge outpourings tells me She is done, too. I gave Her 101 opportunities to be strong. She gave me 101 opportunities to release Her.
I will never find anyone like Her again, and I certainly won’t go looking. Perhaps I will keep my pseudonym email, just to keep in contact with Her, to see how She is doing. I just won’t check it everyday. It’s too disappointing.
Time to courageously let go. She’s right. I am naive. No more fire.