Erased

When I moved out of the Old Badness' house, I made an attempt to erase myself from his life. I dug out the first postcard I sent him and took it along with a few other things. This was mostly due to the fact that they were lumped in with all the letters from all the other ex girlfriends, and it was my way of defining the boundaries that my relationship with him after the breakup was going to be different than the relationship he had with them. That I wasn't going to allow myself to become and issue between him and whomever he ended up with next, unlike the issues we had with all of his other ex girlfriends.

This time around, I didn't want to erase myself from T's life, because unlike the OB, he's a genuinely good guy. I'm hoping that moving out and being separated would allow us to hang out and have fun again without the daily drudgery of living together, but he seems to be erasing me himself. The rational mind knows that that's his way of dealing, and hopefully healing, and he has every right to cope with the breakup in whatever way he needs to, but the emotional mind, well it still makes me terribly sad.

I have no interest in erasing him. If our relationship is disintegrating, maybe that's what needs to happen to allow for it to eventually be put back together again in a shape that works better for both of us.

Perfect for a knitting metaphor - if a stitch isn't working with yarn that you love, when it's the right color or texture or weight, but the piece is misshapen, you pull it apart and start over. Yeah, the yarn will be all kinked and bent out of shape, possibly even a big knotted up messy ball, but once it's knit back into something that works, the deformities are all pulled out and disappear and you end up with something better than before.