The traveler in me is ruining/ruined my relationship. At the start of this, I thought it would be the distance. But its not. Its me. I’m so used to changing whatever I don’t like. People, situations, locales. Anything. America sort of spoiled me with the right to, “free will” or whatever you want to call it. Of course, it has some great benefits, like not getting attached to temporary things, being able to adjust to a variety of things that are thrown at you and etc. The list is long when it comes to the pros of being young, free and a traveler. What happens when what you love and know interferes with a love interest?
Its been brought to my attention that I’m a runner. And while I’m not solely blaming it on traveling, I do think that it plays a large part. Whenever a conflict transpired between my man and me, my first instinct was to run. Like literally, run. I looked for flights to create space between us hoping that the situation would simmer. I mean its kind of hard to just go to a friend’s house for space or to calm down when you’re 4000 miles away from home AND having a meltdown. The only thing worst than running is threatening to run. It doesn’t help the relationship at all. It creates that awkward space, knowing that your significant other wants to quit when things get tough. Where is the love?
So this time, no more threats, I did it, I ran. This wasn’t like hopping across an ocean for a new adventure. This was a lot different. I was in pain, I thought it was the right thing to do, and I couldn’t have been more wrong. It’s always been easy for me to board the plane and not look back or second guess my decision to travel. Not this time. No one asked me to leave, my life wasn’t in danger, nothing, but I left. I hated the decision I made. I cried on the plane, going through security and customs, eating a donut while waiting to board the plane. I. Was. A. Mess. How could I just leave like that? Every step I made the further I was from him. It killed me/ it is killing me. I keep replaying the situation over and over in my head. Sort of in a 500 Days of Summer sense… Expectations vs. Reality style.
Expectations: I wanted to hold your hand while the doctor gave you the bad news. I wanted to give you the warmest hug while we were on the elevator and tell you that everything will be okay. I wanted to be able to drive a stick so that you wouldn’t have to drive all the way home, since getting that bad news. I wanted you to know that I was there for you no matter what. That it wouldn’t just be you fighting this fight, it would be the both of us. I was prepared to extend my trip and be your nurse. I wanted to make you happy again. I know that basketball is life, and that it wasn’t anything I could say to make you feel better, but I was hoping that my presence was just enough.
Reality: After we left the doctor, I attempted to give you a few words of encouragement. I shut down after awhile. I figured you needed your space, after all, I didn’t know you that well and I didn’t know how you handled certain things. Talk about an epic fail on my behalf. It was selfish of me to shut down because thats when you needed me to be the most open. You needed me then, and I wasn’t there. I can only imagine how you must’ve felt. It seemed like the drive back to Bonn was longer than the drive there. I had so many opportunities to hold your hand, to tell you that everything was going to be better, and I didn’t. The distance grew, the attitudes flared (mainly by me). I was uncomfortable, so I did the closest thing to comfort that I was used to. I booked a ticket and I ran.
This one is going to hurt. It’s inevitable.
I know I’m getting a little off topic, this is supposed to be a post about traveling. But he’s not keen on words, more about actions. As a writer; my words are my everything. So I needed to vent.
I’ll probably be deleting this soon. It just felt good to get this off my chest.
If I decide to keep this post up, take my mistakes and learn from them.
I know we’re so used to running, don’t.