This September has been a particularly bad month. I’ve been meaning to write about it. At first I was so busy with travel and work that I just didn’t have the time and then apathy took over. I think I just didn’t want to face it. To have to put it all down. To risk writing about it and having it turn out stupid.

 

Things with Mursette had been steadily declining for quite some time. During one of our counseling sessions she said something particularly hurtful that I just couldn’t turn a blind eye to and I made the decision to just end it.

 

Mursette and I are very different, and against better logic, I had thought that we could make things work. Our communication skills were horrible. We want very different things in our lives, and we value very different things. It always annoyed me that she would never meet her problems head on and instead decide to avoid them and hope that they would change. At the same time she would fight with me about the silliest little things, a dichotomy that I just couldn’t accept. So, I ended things and like an amateur told her that I had to stay in the apartment for about a week while I lined up somewhere else to stay. One morning after work I came home. What started off bad turned to worse and I had to pack and leave the apartment in a huge hurry, all the time worried about her safety as well. Through the help of a few good friends I managed to secure a place to stay and did my best to make sure that she was okay. The following weeks were rough. My grandmother went into Hospice and succumbed to cancer a few weeks later, causing me to drive back the Bible belt twice in two weeks.

 

Throughout this time we began to talk. Just a little at first and more later. She was talking about how she had become more active and that she was seeing the counselor alone. I was impressed with the progress that she had made over just a few weeks. I started considering getting back with her on a trial basis while we worked on things. You see, I’m a romantic. There’s something alluring about overcoming a great obstacle to find a great love. This is the dream that I fell for. I discussed the idea with my counselor and against the better advice of close friends, we decided to try and make it work.

 

About a week later I was on a trip to the east coast, a trip that had been supposed to go on. Things started just fine, but a few days before her birthday I could tell something was wrong. It all came to a head on her birthday and she spent the night texting me the most awful, hurtful things that she could think of.

 

Maybe I should thank her for all of that, it made my task much easier. Walking away was much easier and some of my feelings of guilt were gone. At least for a little bit. In the past few days we have spoken a few times, and it has been cordial. I can tell that she’s hurting quite a bit and I now know that she’s never been broken up with before and also claims that she’s hadn’t been in love until now.

 

It’s hard hearing that. I can remember the loss of my first love and how devastated it made me feel. At age 19 I didn’t have many responsibilities, so it was fine that I spent a week on the couch crying. At age 19 my life and hers hadn’t intermingled to any degree. At age 19 I wasn’t really giving much thought to future plans. I have an understanding of how she must feel, but not a full understanding.

 

To know that you’re causing someone that you care about so much pain is a hard thing to know. Even if that person purposely hurt you and you know that your decision is the right one. You want to reach out and try to comfort them, but you know that you’re the last person in the world who can do that. To try and accept that taking care of this person isn’t your responsibility anymore is difficult to relearn. I find myself thinking of offering to do things for her.

I’ve always been one to try and shoulder all of the burden and ask for nothing in return, and strangely it seems that usually that’s what I get.

 

I miss her and I miss the Monster.

 

I’ve been in contact with my recruiter. Everything is ready for me to go traveling. I’m currently waiting on an interview for a job in NorCal, one that despite being 48 hours a week, I’m damn excited about. I’m so scared to travel again. I’m comfortable here. I know the hospitals. I know the people. I have friends and I generally know what to expect at work. To cast off and head west is a scary proposition. Scary, but exciting.

 

A long time ago I was asked if I wanted to start being Charge Nurse. The idea frightened me and I vocalize that fear. My manager at the time just said “Ok” and said that if I didn’t want to start doing it that they would train the next person on the list, someone with less experience that me. Insulted, I immediately started training. Wouldn’t you know it, but I loved being in charge. That moment was a lesson that I’ve carried with me since. Most of the time the things that scare you are the things that you should do. And so I prepare to leave the comfort of a steady job and familiar people for the uncertainties of the road.

 

Wish me luck.