The Breaker-upper/Walk-awayer

Since Maxy is at Mike’s this week, I get to sleep in a little longer in the morning, or just lay there in bed leisurely with no urgency to get up, and sometimes I even have time to go for a walk/jog along the lake and exercise a bit. And that’s exactly what I did yesterday morning.

I do my best thinking while listening to music. Be it while driving or walk/jogging, but there has to be music. Music sparks something in me, it sets the tone somehow, and thoughts just flow. And yesterday, as I walked and listened to my favorites play away, this thought entered my mind “I am the breaker-upper, as Sophie declared me (rebember that?), or maybe not the breaker-upper, but the walk-awayer, yeah, the walk-awayer for sure.”

I don’t necessarily want to be the walk-awayer, but I think I am. Let me explain. I’m a perfectionist, I tend to me compulsive, and obsessive about certain things, and if I’m into something, I’m into it 24/7 for as long as the obsession lasts. It passes, it always does. But as long as I’m obsessed, I’m really obsessed. I also have little tolerance for laziness, for things not being at their best, their prettiest, their most charming, or most appealing. I try hard to live up to my standards, and I expect everyone around me to do so too. It’s important to me, it always has been, and for some reason I expect it to be important to everyone else as well. I realize how self-centered that sounds. I know how unlikely it is for everyone else to care about the same things I do, and to the same degree. Yet, I do, and when they don’t, I try, I stay, I endure, and then when it still isn’t the way I want it to be, I walk away. I’m the walk-awayer.

When I hear of women in abusive relationships that have lasted for years and years, I think to myself, and sometimes say it out loud, “I would have left that guy before he could even blink twice!” I don’t take it, I don’t stay, and I definitely don’t stay AND take it. I walk away, sometimes I even run. But I realize, thankfully, I’ve never been in an abusive relationship. The guys I’ve walked away from have not been monsters, they have been regular Joes, with their issues yes, but your average normal guy all the same. And still, I walked away.

Perfectionist? Yes. Demanding? Absolutely. Super high standards? You betcha. As my BIL Cas would say: I’m not easy. We Mata girls are too difficult to please. So I asked Mike to help me out. I asked him to help me stay, to not let me walk away, because I know this time I would regret it, this time I would wish I would have stayed. And so far he’s been doing a good job at reminding me that it’s worth the fight, that whatever burst of anger or displeasure I have it will pass, that sometime it’s best to just breathe, let it go, and wait it out. I don’t have to walk away, not every single time.

But for those of you who tend to stay, who wait until there’s nothing left to wait for any more, this one is for you. Because sometimes, you do need to just walk away.

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(I began writing this post back in May 23rd 2012, and didn’t post it for some unknown reason. It was stored in my drafts folder. I thought I’d share.)

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