The Jonathan Letters: Wishing Doesn’t Make it So

Jonathan is the man I date. He was also my first boyfriend.  Now here we are, 20yrs later seeing one another again. We’ve been together for almost a year now.

At first, he was the love of my life. I felt closer to him anyone else. All the years of friendship and our rekindled romance fused us together in and deluded me into thinking we were meant to be. There is no such thing as meant to be.

As the months passed, it became clear Jonathan had been damaged during his 12yr marriage.  Every time we disagreed, he treated me as tho I was unreasonable…crazy. He insisted I didn’t have the best interest of his kids at heart. He allowed his ex-wife to interfere with our plans routinely.

After I told him about the abuse I endured at the hands of my schizophrenic mother, he refused to attend gatherings held by any member of my family. He forbid me to talk about his divorce with my friends making things between he and I difficult to explain. He was supremely upset that I allowed CJ to stay at my house for a few weeks in spite of claiming to be fine with the situation at first.

Our closeness fell apart. At first I was upset..distraught. Over the next 4 months, I decided to accept the distance between us. I stopped talking about my family, about CJ, and about the future. There would be no future – nothing to plan around – just two people with two separate lives who see each other only on Saturday. During those months, I spent many nights quietly crying and asking God to help me make the right choices. Asking God what I had done to deserve to be abandoned a second time by a man I had deeply trusted. There were no answers.

Tonight I felt the urge to confess all of this to Jonathan and beg for the closeness that we had in the beginning because I long for that closeness. I didn’t call him. There was no cinematic confession. Making a decision then renegotiating is a behavior that kept me trapped in miserable relationships. But still, I wish Jonathan and I could be close again. Wishing doesn’t make it so.

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