#well I guess its writing my thesis time at the crack of dawn

[raksh-writes]

So.

Its 5 am.

Its past dawn, I think. Its definitely light already. The birds wont shut up right outside my window.

I havent slept a wink yet.

And I have no idea what to do

[letters-to-my-dear-ex-boyfriend]

Dear Ex Boyfriend,

I have done some thinking. I have done my fair share of bitching and moaning. I have whined to anyone and everyone. I’ve been angry, hurt, frustrated, confused. I have spoken honestly and candidly with a therapist. I have spoken to friends and family. I have posted things on Instagram. I have done it all. But I slowed to a halt and I finally had a moment to myself. I stopped to think about the past, the present and the future. I stopped to think about what I want out of life, what I am pushing myself towards and if I am pushing myself towards these things strictly for me. I have come to some conclusions. I have already opened some doors to new possibilities. But I cannot make any moves before I share some thoughts, and maybe give and receive some clarity.

I think there will be three parts to this. 

1)     Letting you know what I have done. Aka the above list but also a few other things.

2)     The long as letter I wrote to you when I woke up at the crack of dawn. When I woke up to some clarity, that I needed to write down, because I needed you to know.

3)     Pen pal status achieved.

Do what you will with all of this. You might choose to not read it at all, or you might choose to use it as fire starter. I cannot control what you do, but I can control what I do. And I really want to do this.

Back to 1…

I wrote letters. A lot of letters. This letter to you being one of them. I also wrote goodbye letters to your entire family (minus Ian and Heather, I don’t think they really deserve one). The letters are to your Mother, Aunt, Father, L, and your Gran. They all state in some degree that I am so sorry this is the outcome of the last 3 years. That I will miss numerous things we would do together, and treasure memories. That I loved them all like family, and they will forever be my Scottish family. I also thanked them all for sharing you with me over these past 3 years.

I have decided to not send them yet. Because I am doing that now. I am doing a little more thinking before I leap. I am thinking about the perception of these letters, and how maybe you haven’t told your family yet. But I also have held on to a strange glimmer of hope that you don’t want to tell them either.

For this reason, I have not sent the letters. I won’t send them for a while to come. I won’t send them until I get a response from you, or the long passing of time signifying a response.

I got this whole grand letter idea from you. At first, I though it was such a cop out. To write a letter to someone. But then I started. It became like a weird form of therapy putting my thoughts and feelings onto pages that these people may never ever see. But at least they were off my chest. Rather than a list of things to say running through my mind, I had documentation that I could add to as I thought of more things to think about. In a weird way this made me understand why people journal. Why people write their thoughts and feelings down, their hopes and dreams. Its cathartic. It gives you time to process. It forces you to think about your choice of words. Because words can be taken in a million ways, so you have to ensure to use the right ones and at the right time as to not unknowingly alter the truth.

I wrote a letter to your Dad and L. I wrote a letter to your Aunt and Gran. I started a letter to your Mom. It has been the hardest to write (other than this one). Because I have so much to say to her. Despite the fact that I know she is your biggest supporter, or maybe in spite of that… I am not sure what word to use here (prime example of choice of words skewing the truth). I don’t want to write to her because she supports you, but at the same time, that is exactly why. Because I think she is the only one that blindly loved and supported you the way I had. I think she understands me deeper than the others. We spent more time together one-on-one than anyone else. We had a different connection, that became its very own relationship. She was my pseudo mom and my friend too.

I guess here is how I want 2 to go down…

I wrote you a long ass letter. And I mean long. And this is from someone that hates writing but also wrote a massive thesis. I recommend reading it when well fed, and well rested. Also, with a beer in hand, because most things are better with a beer in hand. Also, on a sunny day. Please save this for a rare but ultimately next level beauty that is a sunny day during the springtime in Scotland. Birds chirping, flowers blooming, the warmth in the air, and the sun taking longer and longer to set.

Set the mood for yourself.

Take time to read it.

Reread it.

Take time to digest it.

 And 3…

If you feel compelled to reply, please do.

But reply through a letter. I want to remove the technology between us. You will understand why after you read this. I think being pen pals for the next little while could do us some good. Slowing down our response time and giving us time to think. 

And when the day is perfect, the mood is right, your stomach is full, and you have a beer in hand. I hope you read this, I hope you digest it, and I hope you respond.

Ex Girlfriend

Save for a sunny day with beer in hand:

 Ex Boyfriend, I want this nightmare to end. 

But the problem is that the nightmare isn't a dream it's my new reality, and with it comes restless nights. I can't sleep anymore; my body has decided that 5.5hrs is all I am allowed. It doesn't matter how late I force myself to stay up. My body doesn't want sleep. I think it thinks this is a nightmare too, and it’s trying to wake me up from it. 

I didn't truly understand why you chose to do what you did. It didn't make much sense to me. To abandon ship due to disagreements and depression seemed like a cop out for a relationship that spanned 3 years. Those are the reasons people go to couples’ therapy, or work on their communication. Those aren't the reasons to sever 3-year long ties. Those aren’t the reasons to end a 50-year long future, and to toss away the jigsaw puzzles of stories being sewn together to create J from ages 0-22. It doesn't seem like a good reason to throw away 75 years of stories, memories, and plans. 

But something changed. Shifted. We were so happy. We were each other's best friend. We couldn’t imagine life without one another. And frankly I couldn't understand how I got so far without you. You became my entire support system. Which was a lot to put on someone in their early 20s. To expect them to want to grow up with me. Not everyone wants to grow up yet, some people want to experience the freedom of being young a little longer.

I think that is where our issues started. I wanted plans, a future, goals. I thought I craved those things. I tried to force those things. But I don't think you ever wanted those exact things, neither did I. I saw how with a little work now; we could live off of my future paycheck and travel forever. How I could free you from a 9-5 by placing myself into a position I could still be proud of. You wanted to make income off of jobs here and there. But I wanted to ensure our financial stability. I wanted to know we could stay in a nice hotel periodically, fly home in an emergency, spoil our van pet, repair and upgrade as needed, but mostly I wanted to assure you that I could give you the life you wanted. 

You always wanted to be the provider. That was the role you would try to force yourself into. I don't know that you wanted that role, or if you just felt you had to do it. But you never seemed entirely happy in that role. You seemed happy to make me happy, but not happy with the duties of that role. That's why I wanted to take that role from you. I wanted to get not just any income, but an income that would mean you didn't really need one. I did the whole struggling student thing for years; I could do it for many more, for the right reasons. And you were the right reason. 

I chose a PhD for the monetary future it could bring us, the stability, and the ease it would bring for visas. I knew with a PhD would come job opportunities, and countries are very giving when it comes to visas for those blessed with a higher education. I didn't want the visa processes to slow us down ever. In my mind I knew I wanted to marry you, but I wasn't sure you wanted the same future along the same timeline. So, I didn't want to add the pressure of marriage to give us access to visas that would ease our travel. I didn't want to force anyone to love me, or choose me, or marry me. So, I moved forward with a PhD. 

I could have stayed in Scotland. Forever. It has its quarks. Some good, and some bad. But I could have stayed there forever. The hardest thing I did was move home. It felt like we had broken up that day. My heart hurt for weeks. Because I moved away from my other family, from my other home country, and from you. But I pressed on. I needed to be strong and slowly build a feasible life in Canada that I could live as I waited for you and that you could easily slip into. I planned the vehicle to be large enough for you, the bus routes to be accessible for me, the furniture to be pleasing for both of us. I wanted you to find comfort everywhere you turned knowing I thought of you every step of the way. I planned it all out. Every bit. I was ready for you to move over at the end of the summer. Or just before Christmas. Or just after. I knew by then you'd have to be over, a visa couldn't possibly take much longer. 

But you missed the visa window. It was like a punch to the gut. I made all of these plans. I thought I had accounted for everything. But not that. Maybe that's the difference between us. Or maybe you already fell out of love with me then. But for me, the first thing I did when we were separate was apply for a visa back. There were setbacks, delays. Moving my return from September to the new year. Funding no longer existed and my friendship with someone I thought was an ally, Julia, crumbled. But I pressed on. I thought I'd find funding and work and new friends. It's the bigger picture. Its a future with you. 

So, I made it work. I flew over on the worst flight paths of my life. Bouncing from one lounge to the next. Thank god for those lounges. Thank god for free food and comfy chairs. I was stressed out of my mind. I just wanted to be with you already. I felt like I had jumped through enough hoops to prove I wanted to be there. This was just another one. 

The finish line of arrivals was bittersweet, and luggage light. But I didn't have time to dwell on that stress. We had a flight in a few hours to a trip away. A sunny trip meant to celebrate my homecoming, and our relationship marching onward. My hormones were out of wack due to my birth control enjoying some quality time with the rest of my lost luggage. Which meant the fun for that trip had only just begun. We made the clothes work, as I got more bloated each day due to an impending period. My skin got worse, as hormonal acne showed up only when you least need another reason to not look in the mirror. That trip could have been a complete mess. But it was far from. Minus spending a night on the toilet because I just had to try that bite of your fish. The trip was good. You kept my spirits up, you loved me through the cloud of hormonal turn offs, and you joined me on a period product scavenger hunt. 

I fell deeper in love with you that trip. Because everyday could have been worse. As I bloated and the tight clothes got tighter. My skin got worse, and I was forced to expose it in a string bikini. My period arrived. It was a vacation in a sunny paradise nightmare. But the nightmare never truly hit. You kept it away. 

I had a lot of nightmare scares. Moving to a new country does that. You worry about a lot. Especially when your main source of support is a relationship that isn't even a year old, and a family you don't know that we'll yet. I didn't feel like it was my place to lean on these people. They weren't mine. They were yours. But support me they did. Through visits and happy birthday cards. They welcomed me to their family with open arms, I think they could see the love in your eyes. I couldn't see the love. It's not that it wasn't there it's just that I could believe it. I couldn't believe I deserved it. The term "punching" came to mind after hearing you utter it about others. I realized that I was the one "punching". 

I felt like was punching in more ways than one. I didn't feel like my life was meant for me. It was a mistake. After years of hardships. This seemed all too easy. I suddenly had the perfect guy, and the perfect family, in an amazing country. My entire life, I suddenly felt like I was punching. 

I never felt good enough. I knew you could do so much better. I saw how I looked and how you looked. I knew the burdens of inner battles in my head that came as a package deal with me. But you never saw any of that. You just saw me. It was just me; every quark was me. You wanted me. 

A year of ups and downs went by. As I couldn't hide who I truly was anymore. I was stressed and anxious galore. Our phone calls were interrupted by early morning PT or nights out with the boys. It was hard to be second chair to a life a didn't understand. I only got you for a few hours and when those hours were even slightly diminished it hurt. I was a lonely extrovert talking to a face on a phone. In hindsight I should have known I was going struggle. 

But you visited as often as possible, you stayed up late with me as late as possible. We found creative ways to watch shows together. We new every hurdle would one day bring us a little bit closer. It did. We had our fights, that were too easily ended with a hung-up phone. I admit that the one thing that saved us also became our downfall. Technology made it so easy to connect, but just as easy to disconnect. I didn't want an online relationship. I wanted it in person. 

My wish did eventually come true. You came home. I think for once I was happier to see another human than W. Thank the Lord I didn't have a tail, or it would have broken from wagging. I thought here we go. That's it. We did it. Our happy ever after starts now. I didn't listen to the warnings from D S of the impending troubles. That it will get worse before it gets better. But I thought not us, no way, we had far too much love. But he was right. I don't know that you ever knew, I am not sure that you could see the changes like I could. But it happened. The army stole something from you. I don't know what it stole. I think it stole your youth, but I only think that now. I never knew what it stole then. 

You struggled. You never admitted it, but I could see it. You didn't want to open up, I think the army stole that ability from you as well. But I knew you. I knew you so incredibly well. So, I also assumed I could fix you. That was the first mistake. I should have urged you to seek help. To find someone you could talk to, so that you could continue to put on a brave face for me. In hindsight I think that was the kiss of death.

I tried to accept you into my daily routines. But it was hard. I became very accustomed to a lifestyle Walt and I created. It worked for him and I, we had many months of understanding each other to make it work. But you and I. We didn’t get months of trial and error while recreating a routine. We were tossed into a flat together and just expected to swim. But we barely tread water. I wanted the version of you the army took away. But that version of you was built by the army. But I didn't want to give you back. A twisted catch 22.

I know you never wanted to treat me the way you did. I know you never wanted to force me into a housewife role. To come home angry from work. To tell me I didn't do enough chores, or that I didn't vacuum properly. That's never what you wanted. I knew that wasn't you. I knew this was the struggle Dave warned me about. You were going to become a different person. You were grieving the loss of a lifestyle you became accustomed to. Perhaps it was my fault for not pushing back earlier, for letting you become a different person. I thought that I was helping, but I couldn't keep up the housewife facade. And it came crumbling down. The fights became more frequent along with the tears.

But I pressed on. Echoes of friends telling me I shouldn't have to go through this. I shouldn’t allow myself to be treated this way. I should leave you. But I would never do that. You were my support system through my toughest year. I was now yours. I wasn't going to give up. I saw flashes of the real you as we slow danced in the kitchen and went on gelato filled dog walks. I knew you were coming back to me. But my visa was ending. I finally got to see you coming back to me. And I was being forced to leave. I didn't want to leave. I looked at spouse visas with a 6-month wedding date clause. I looked at work visas, but I couldn't find jobs to pay me enough. I looked at student visa, but schools wouldn't fully fund me. I didn't want to burden you again with my degree not being funded. So, I expanded the search. 

I landed where I am now. In the hopes that you would soon follow. I made every decision thinking, that I must think for us both. Because you would soon follow. I couldn’t be selfish, as you were selflessly going to follow. But time passed and you didn't follow. You visited in the summer and stated you had yet to make any progress. It was the scariest sentence I had heard you utter. You thought about jobs in Calgary and chatted with ex military guys about it. But you still hadn't applied. It scared me. Did you not want to be here? I didn't want you to go through the struggle of moving to another country just for me. I wanted you to want to be here for more than one reason. But I guess I only ever was the reason. It was only me. And that should have been good enough for me, that should have filled my heart. I realize that now, and I have a delayed onset of that heart filled feeling.

I didn't want it to be only me. Because I worried it wasn't reason enough. I didn't think I was worth the move. In the end I guess I wasn't. But I think that is because I believed I wasn’t, it was easy to convince you of that same thing. If I couldn’t believe it, how could anyone else?

School started and it was a lot, fast. Too much. I was underprepared for this. I once again didn't feel like enough. I felt out of place. Like I had duped them. And now the 4-year fake-it-till-you-make-it had just begun. But I pushed on. I had to. This was in the plan. I had to do this for us. You were going to follow me to Canada, I had to do my part. I had to become comfortable in my new home. Create a social life. Create a network. I had to understand it and thrive in it, so that you could too. Even if that wasn’t what you wanted or needed of me. I didn’t ask, I just made the decision. I should have asked. In the end I did what you did to me. I took our few screen-time chatting hours and limited them. But not with PT or a night out with the boys. My life didn't stop phone calls early, it made them start late. Meetings, classes, office hours. My life started to do what yours had. It whittled down what little time we had. 

I wanted to blame you for it. For going to bed early so you could work out before work. I wanted to blame you for the whittled hours. But this time it was me. We were both trying to stand on our own two feet. Assuming that the other person was doing a better job at it than they actually we're. I tried to admit my struggles to you, as you admitted yours to me. But it just became screaming matches of who was struggling more, and technology letting us disconnect to easily. 

But we pressed on. After I coerced you into applying for a visa to Canada over Christmas. We pressed on. But I think by then that you maybe had already checked out. Conversations didn't include the words "when I come to Canada" or "assuming at that point I am not in Canada". They just included plans you had for yourself for the summer, and plans your family was making for Christmas. But they never included the word "Canada". I noticed. I don't know that you did. I don't know that it was on purpose. But I noticed. And to me it spoke volumes. In my mind I had now forced you to apply to a future you didn't want or weren't ready for. The one thing I never wanted to do. I didn't want to push you out of the army, or into marriage. I didn’t want to push you ever. I wanted you to make every choice on your own. Which was a lot to ask considering I hadn't made a choice just for me in a long time. But I should have asked you, I shouldn’t have just noticed this happening. I should have spoke up and asked the questions, to settle my worries and possibly your own.

On this one day I made a choice. A selfish choice, a bone headed choice. An angry 25-year-old going through a quarter life crisis kind of choice. We went on a hike one day. Drinks in tote. And we sat just north of Glen Devon. We had a spat earlier. You asked me this:

"If I asked you to marry me would you say yes?"

I was still licking my wounds after our fight. I said, "I don't know". I didn't want to scare you. I said "I am moving to Canada, and you are here, and it's all so up in the air. So, I just don't know." That wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the truth. I didn't want to scare you with a resounding "yes", I didn't want you to think I forgot our earlier spat. But my answer was yes. Yes. A million times yes. Throwing myself on top of you. Planting a kiss on you. Rolling around in the tick covered moss. Yes. But I didn't say that. I didn't do that. I played myself. 

I shot myself in the foot that day. It's not like you had a ring in your back pocket. It's not like you were actually proposing. But maybe in your head you were. This was the equivalent. You wanted to be sure of the answer before you asked the biggest question of your life. And I selfishly squandered it. I thought about that specific moment for days. I still do. Clearly. I am sorry. I am sorry for the interaction. Because I wanted to redo that moment, immediately after I answered you. I wanted to throw myself on you. But I saw the hurt in your eyes I so vindictively wanted. I wanted to take that hurt away but after I let it sit for a while. I think I let it sit too long. 

So, in the end you did make a choice. All on your own. Just the way I always wanted. It wasn't the choice I had hoped for. I fought battles for us for so long. Battles only I knew about. And I thought you would continue to do the same. I know now that you were also fighting battles that I didn't know about. We should have shared that with each other. I couldn't quite ease your pain the way a childhood friend could. I couldn't offer that same historical comfort. I didn't have 25 years under my belt, filled with the good old days. I had 3 years of career changes, new degrees, new countries, death, and moving to a new house. I had 3 years of shit couples go through over their entire lives. We lived 50 years in 3. 

I'd still live 50 years with you. I'd do a lot of insane things for you. You wouldn't ask me to quit my PhD. But I would have. You wouldn't ask me to move back to Scotland. But I would have. You always asked me what I'd do if I had won the lottery and in my head I already had. You asked me if I would drastically change my lifestyle for money. And now I wonder if when you said money, you meant you. I could win the lottery and I wouldn't change my life. But I hit the jackpot with you, and I would change for you. You just didn't ask the right questions. I would stop working, travel the world, quit my degree, and live in a van for you. Because ultimately everything I was doing, every decision I had made, I had you in the back of my mind. 

I go to bed before 2 and I wake up before 8. I wake up waiting for this nightmare to end. Trapped in our home countries by a pandemic. The one person I'd want to go through a pandemic with. But I can't. I can't because I moved away. I can't because you didn't follow. And now I don't know that I ever will. This pandemic in a weird way could have been good to us. You could have worked from home. I could have worked from home. We would have basically pretended we were living in a more spacious van with a proper kitchen and washroom. We would have finally got to feel what spending every day and every hour together was like. No stress or distraction from visas ending, thesis due dates, moving to a new house, financial strain, or childhood best friends. Just the two of us. 

I like to think that if I stayed. We would be okay. We would be past the worst of it. Minus your job. But I would have gotten a job. And we would suffer through shit jobs. All in the name of #vanlife. 

I like to think that if you followed. We would be okay. We would be past the worst of it. Minus my degree. But you would have found work. And we would suffer through it together. All in the name of #vanlife. 

I think we both made the wrong decision. In the hopes that the other would make the right one. But neither of us wanted to force the other. Neither of us wanted to take away from each other's futures or goals. We thought we were being fair or giving. But we were being stupid. 

We failed in a key aspect. And had we still been together we wouldn't have ever noticed. We needed this breaking point to shed light on the obvious. Our communication is and was shit. Our days were filled with assumptions, and words left unsaid. Technology let us disconnect too easily

I think we still have a fighting chance. If you told me to jump, id say how high. Not because of the breakup. But because of the pandemic. I think I finally had that moment to step back and think about what is really worth it in life. What do you really want in life? How do you want to spend your 80 years? I spent 22 of them alone. Pursuing education. I spent 3 of them with you. Pursuing education. And now I am once again alone. Pursuing education. I thought education brought me joy. But really it was just a crutch. A safety net. I knew it would always be there. In the way I had hoped you would be. 

I know you have already found some sort of peace. You seemed relieved to end the relationship. Like you had been waiting months to cut ties. Suffocating. You get to distract yourself with work. With your best friend. You get to distract your mind from us by worrying for your gran, your aunt, your dad, and your mother. Your head gets to race from thoughts of work to family to nothing after a few puffs with J. 

I haven't found peace. I don't know that I will anytime soon. People telling me to get over it. I deserve the best. He wasn't all that. But they don't know you like I did. You were the best to me; you were worth it. I sit in a state of denial where you still are the best and you still are worth it. I want you to be happy. But I want me to be happy too. I want a friendship. That's a lie. I want a relationship. I want my Scottish family back. I want my future back. But I have lost control over all of those things. 

I think I finally realized what you meant by being a victim of life. I think you saw me becoming the same victim of life that your Dad is. Suffering through a life of 9-5s. I don't think you meant that I was a victim, but that I had fallen victim. I think you chose your words wrong. Or at least that's what I tell myself. I wish you had used the proper words in the first place. I wouldn't have felt attacked. With time I would have felt cared for. Because I think that is all it was. You cared. And you were watching me slip the way you did after leaving the army. A victim of life. You found solace in the wind and clouds rushing past you. A reason for the 9-5. 

I think I have found a weird form of hopeful solace in you. I think in the worst way possible; you opened my eyes. You opened my eyes to our relationship and how I wandered blindly though it for months. I see how I was falling victim. I see how you saw me. I see why you finally left. 

But I hope this letter makes you think. Maybe makes you see what I saw. The way I think I have started to see what you saw. 

I think I am ready to stop being a victim of life. I actually spoke with Jim. I spoke to him about pausing my program, or the possibility of entirely dropping out. I think I wanted a PhD, I think I still want one. But I cannot honestly say I want it for any other reason than to rub it into people’s faces, just to prove that I could do it, so I did it. Which is a really stupid way to spend the last years of my 20s. I think I fell victim to life, but even more so to other’s perceptions of me. I wanted everyone to proud of me, impressed with me, to wish they were me. But when I finally took a moment to step back, step away from it all, and allow myself to just think and feel. I realized that those reasons are not the right reasons to do anything. The only reason should be “is this what I want, and will it make me happy?” and if you can’t say “yes and yes”, then the answer overall is “no”.

So, I sat, and I thought. What do I want? What will make me happy? And I came to a pretty obvious conclusion. My conclusion will frustrate people, confuse people, and might not be wildly supported by my social circle or society. But then again who cares. Fuck society in general. But also, people should learn to just be happy for people when they are doing something that makes them happy. The people that truly love and care for me, they will be happy.

So yes, we are trapped in a pandemic. Yes. we are trapped in our countries. And for some of us, we are trapped in our homes. But being trapped is what gave me the time to actually stop and think. To not throw myself into school or work, but to just think. I know what I plan to do when this pandemic ends, and when the world slowly returns to normal. I hope that you can maybe come to a similar conclusion.

Fuck being a victim.

Ex Girlfriend

I hope you choose to communicate with me this way. I understand if you choose not to. But please let me know when you receive this letter, and if you choose to not respond just tell me that too. I don’t need a reason; I just don’t want to sit waiting for a letter in return.