poor communication skills, take 2

it's been just about a week, absent a couple hours, since i... what? i'm not sure how to complete this sentence.

a) nearly made a big mistake?
b) turned what was almost a big mistake into something wonderful?
c) broke and then helped mend a pair of hearts? (mooshy!)

Let's stick to the facts, then. Since only three or so people read this crap, it's no news to you that a week ago today it was my intention to break up with W. The idea had been eating away at me for a couple weeks, and causing me much tsurris. As far as I could tell, W had no idea that this was on my mind. She took it as would someone who loved me. She took it rather badly.

I realized something the next evening, something that was very important to me. Something that helped explain my behavior. I told this to W:

I don't have much experience with personal relationships of any kind.

I'll say it again, even though this will be the fourth time she's heard it:

I don't have much experience with personal relationships of any kind.

I had reasons that I wanted to break up. They might even be valid. They certainly seemed important then. I didn't tell them to W until the next day. I only hinted at them on Thursday, because I thought they'd hurt her feelings.

Let me remind you, dear reader:

I don't have much experience with personal relationships of any kind.

Because of this, and because of Me, and because of a number of things, I spose, it seemed that the only choice I had left was to break up. There were problems in our personalities and the way we interacted that just weren't going to work out, I thought. I may be wrong. I may be right. That wasn't the point last Thursday. Walking in to W's room to do what I thought was right, I still didn't know the point.

W told me the point, as she so often does.

The point: if I think there are problems, I should talk about them, not run away.

Everyone keeps telling me "communication is key" and I keep thinking "yeah, we've got great communication". Last Thursday, I realized just how lousy I was at communicating.

I'd rather break up with her than hurt her feelings by telling her what I think makes her not-right for me? It makes no sense, here, written down, with my perspective now. But somehow, it made sense then.

It made sense because I simply, inconceivably, saw no other alternative. TALKING about it just didn't enter my mind.

Sometimes W has brilliant ideas and speaks them. Sometimes W says something that reveals a brilliant idea in my own mind - I'm not always sure if she has the same idea. Last Thursday, W said something that caused these words to coalesce in my mind:

Instead of breaking up, why not talk things over? If things still don't work out, fine. But give Us a chance.

Simple, huh?

But before that Thursday, those things weren't in my mind. W put them there. Or maybe they were there, hidden away, and W revealed them.

I told my Mom a couple days later that I often don't know exactly why I do things when I do them. Afterwards, my motivations often become clear. She didn't like the sound of this, but I think it's true not only for me, but for everyone. That's why I write. That's why I blog. I write to uncover possibilities and intentions. To find out what can happen if I do X, Y, or Z, or to find out if my reasons for doing X (or doing W, har har har har har har har har har har) were really what I thought they were.

I think I went to W's last Thursday in order to open clear lines of communication: to relieve the pressure of all the crap I'd kept bottled up, all the irrational fear that if I told her things I didn't like about her, she'd be upset or something.

As I later told W, I've rarely maintained a friendship -- much less a love life -- and that, poorly. I've no experience dealing with someone that I care so deeply about, that I've known for so short a time. That's no whiney excuse, that's a shameful fact. My mind was full of conflicting messages, and the only way out that I saw was what I tried to do.

But it wasn't what I wanted.

I know that because through it all, I loved her just as much as I ever did. As I sat there last Thursday trying to explain my feelings (a beginner mistake ;) I just wanted to shut up and hug her. I didn't want to see her in pain, and I knew that the only one that could put a smile back on her face was me. But I was sitting there doing just the opposite, and that hurt me quite a lot. She said a lot of things, that night, as did I. What's important is that she said the thing that I went there to hear, the thing that I didn't know I was going there to hear:

Talk.

I analyzed things emotionally. That was easy. I said to myself:

Do I love her?
a) yes
b) yes

There was no "no" option.

I analyzed things rationally. That was not as easy. For a change, I was acting irrationally. It took me a couple of days to sort out the rational side of things:

Worst case scenario: I spend some more time and energy being loved by W, gaining valuable relationship, communication, time-management, romance, and a million other skills, having fun, having Fun, having chow fun, being Goof, enjoying a part of life I've never enjoyed before.

In the very worst case, I could continue to bottle things up out of irrational fear and re-cease my emotional growth, or she could leave unaddressed the things that I found lacking in our relationship. After a while, we'd end up back where we were.

Best case: same as always: Happily Ever After.

So what did I have to lose? Some time. I stand to waste some time. So what? I'm good at that. I just got finished wasting 9 years. I can "waste" a couple more months, no problem.

Some folks think I "caved" or that I "gave in" or "failed" or "lost my nerve" or some such. I admit, I was one of those folks. I had big doubts on the tandem drive home Thursday night (Friday morning, technically). But once I thought about it -- once I realized that the REAL big mistake would be to destroy something beautiful without giving it a chance to heal itself -- I realized why I really went over there a week ago tonight.

The next day we talked. And we've talked some more. And now I have nothing bottled up inside, and it feels wonderful. And I can see that W is making a real effort to take care of the things that made me so nervous. I didn't ask for a little. I asked for quite a lot. But I think she's serious about doing quite a lot. She asked for my help. I'll give it, gladly, as much as I can.

I think she meant what she said on the bed (dressed in red, underfed, not-quite-dead). And that makes me feel wonderful, too.

Once again, W has made me feel Wonderful.

As awful as the experience was for both of us, I'm glad it happened. I think W is too.

Got to run. Someone's waiting for me.