*DEV ONLY* (suggestions appreciated) *DEV ONLY*
Sept 11, 2022 1:57:21 GMT -5
via mobile
blueskye101, AlrightyAphrodite, and 10 more like this
Post by cilantro on Sept 11, 2022 1:57:21 GMT -5
IGNORE THE TYPOS AND ALL THE RUNONS, I WROTE THIS AT TWO IN THE MORNING ON MY IPHONE AND I SHOULD PROOFREAD BUT I WONT BECAUSE I NEED THE BRAVERY TO POST AND IF I PROOFREAD ILL LOSE IT
I am still processing the end of my romantic relationship with a person I still love very much, who I wanted so badly to be my dev unicorn. For those who have been on the forum for over a year, you might know part of mine and z’s story. In the beginning of our relationship I found joy in sharing some of the quirks of interabled dating on our blog. Even at that time I had doubts about us, some of which are evident when you go back and read those blog posts. First of all Z’s disability was subtly yet importantly different than what usually is attractive to me. part of my devness has always been seeing disabled guys maintain independence, something about that stubborn determination was and is so hot, and to be there when a task simply is not possible, to be decidedly needed in that moment fulfills my caring spirit. Zacc, sadly had all but lost his independence when I moved in a year and a half ago, an injury to his back had cost him the ability to eat by himself right before I met him in person for the first time, he stopped being able to use the bathroom by himself shortly after, once I moved in he lost the ability to transfer his hand from his lap to his joystick, from his joystick to his desk and vice versa. Next was pain, z had an endless supply of pain, the epicenter of which seemed to move through his body: his butt, his back, his legs, his ribs, his jaw, etc. This led to overwhelming anxiety that he would never stop hurting. At first, when I held him close to me, his head encircled next to my heart, and encouraged him to breath deeply with me and this was able to calm his pain induced anxiety, I felt this sense of pride. He told me I made him feel safer than anybody else, he needed me, but after the pain went on and on for over a year I could hear myself lying when I told him it would be okay, that he would feel better soon, i knew that I would watch him suffer the next day and the day after that, who knew what would hurt next. Then sleep, sleep was one of the first struggles we were plagued by that actively frustrated me. Z used a bipap machine to sleep and if his mask was not perfect it would not work, so it hardly ever worked. Each night I dreaded the hour to 4 hour (depending on the cooperation of the mask) routine to get z comfortable enough to sleep. Z tried mask after mask, some based on his doctor’s and bipap specialist’s suggestions and some based on google’s, none worked. We had more useless masks piled in our closet than one could use in months if they wore a new one every night. None of the masks worked, Z wasted what little money the government allowed him to have, I started having anxiety attacks before bed. Still we were in the honeymoon phase, I found caretaking romantic. I felt close to z because I was so needed by him, his family loved me, everyone was so happy that I was there.
I felt cared for. Z’s care team at that time was excellent, they brought joy and energy into our home, they were there to care for z but they did not neglect me, they did not resent if z asked them to bring me something when we were still snuggling in bed, they brought me an ibuprofen when I woke up with my period. Looking back I see how his care team was so important to the sense of ease in our relationship. I knew that they were taking care of him so I didn’t have to worry, I used my time to make art, read, watch YouTube. I took shifts as one of zs caretakers because it was convenient and I could make a little money (shitty caretaker salary, but still), but they were consistently scheduled, short, and nothing too intense. I still got to be primarily the girlfriend not just another caretaker. I realize what a difference the earlier team made because they didn’t stay and things got much harder after they left.
Some months in two of Z’s best caregivers had to leave, one to go to grad school, one moved to a different state. We lost their positivity, their good advice, their promptness, their on top of it ness, we lost a lot. Somebody who had previously been let go-ish before my time returned. She was bffs with another member of Zs staff but together they were bad news bears because they gossiped about z and his mom and got each other worked up over perceived slights at work, now she was back and the duo were back at it.
But for a while it worked. Z and I felt good, things felt back on track. I was still somewhat suffering because I had left my friends and family behind and I missed them. In the beginning when quarantine was more strict my friends and I played games every week over zoom and I had a dnd group that gossiped instead of playing dnd, I had a playwriting group that did much the same. At times I skipped these calls because if I missed z and my nighttime cuddles I missed him, but it was nice to have the option. As quarantine In nyc loosened my friends went back to in person activities and I was left alone, I was used to seeing them often or at least having the option to but now I was bored.
I looked for something new. I had started collecting plants when I arrived upstate and they were all still alive for the most part, so I thought z and I really should get a kitten. Z had first said it as an off handed remark, he had always wanted a cat, but you can’t say that around me and not expect me to find you one. One of his aides was allergic, one of the reliable aides, so I would need to find a cat that was hypoallergenic. I found a breed and proceeded to call every shelter within 100 miles, none had ever had a Siberian cat. I found and contacted maybe 5 breeders and one got back. So that was it, I found us our cat daddy. The breeder kitten would be expensive, even before toys and food and litter and vets and furniture, the cat would be expensive. We began to save. since I was the one between us with a job, even if it was just a Shitty pay caretaker job, I bought cat supplies. I got the works: a tower, food and water bowls, toys, litter box and litter, food, storage, later a water fountain. (I tended to pay for most things between me and z because I worked and he already got our groceries with snap benefits, I really just didn’t think about it at the time. I spent a lot of money while upstate, mostly because shopping was something to do and I could do it from my computer since I don’t drive and had no way to get around, but now that I’m back in nyc I really wish I had saved more of it.) We gathered cash and holiday gifts and birthday gifts for the cat and saved. Our kitten was chosen and the date set to get him.
Between the plants, the cat, and being raised by hoarders, I started gathering stuff. Not too much, to me it seemed fine and organized, but compared to z’s former minimalism it was a wee bit cluttered, the care worker duo didn’t like this. Even though one member of the duo I felt quite close with, with her partner to egg her on she began to resent my stuff in the apartment, they resented the occassional favors z asked of them on my behalf, they resented that while they were on duty I relaxed despite our apartment not being up to their standards of tidiness. What they didn’t realize is that I had been raised in a family where one was not supposed to relax while somebody else worked, so though I might be on my computer while they were helping z or doing dishes or whatever, I was wracked with guilt, I found it hard to ever take a real break both physically and mentally while in the apartment, I constantly worried that people saw me as lazy. I resented that one of the duo always came late, sometimes up to an hour, that she walked in with a brick wall of negativity that exploded out around her and hurdled toward us when she came in the door (I’m sensitive to negativity personally which made it worse), that she spent her time with us on her phone and waited to finish episodes of tv or tiktoks before fulfilling z’s requests, and watched her show while helping him with involved tasks like eating and peeing. Z had been fed up with her negativity for a while, but with me also getting swept up tensions started to rise. Social anxiety told me everyone hated me and I should be scared to take up space. When I tried to address her we exploded and she left our lives at least for a bit.
I had already taken on more work hours when the team changed initially, but wracked with guilt because I felt I had driven z’s carer and one of his best friends away, i agreed to take on whatever hours weren’t being covered along with zs stepdad. A couple days later, the departed’s best friend disappeared with an email the morning of her shift, despite assuring us many times that she would not leave. She blocked z on all communication lines and I got to see him fall apart as the rug was ripped out from under him. To be so dependent on others and have those others leave in a blink, I couldn’t imagine his terror.
I took on more caretaking and z’s mom pushed us to drop everything to try to find staff. Z had always struggled to find staff because well, it pays like shit, so even when he didn’t trust or get along with staff members his mom had always pushed him to keep them. When he lost staff she blamed him, “how could he drive them away? Didn’t he know he needed them?” She had bought our apartment for z and rented it out to us, but she found the air toxic so couldn’t actually come over to help, and though z’s stepdad was helpful his mom didn’t like giving up her husband to z for long stretches of time. Tension between z and his mom and his mom and me built up as weeks went by without solidifying new staff. She scheduled interviews for us for full days, though z argued it would exhaust him. He hadn’t need to worry though as most people never showed. I called and emailed people endlessly trying to fix what I felt I had broken, we hired multiple people who stopped showing up the second or third day. Eventually after calling every number on a list of people provided to me by the person who is supposed to find z’s staff, I found one angel. God I love her, she is still with z and she loves him and cares for him with love and loves her job and is always there when he needs her.
Things were looking up. I had started a book about z and my cat living in an interabled household and I decided to finish and self publish it. Projects kept me entertained. When our angel was there I knew z would be taken care of. We just had one more staff slot to fill. We were desperate, we posted one more indeed add and found her, the devil. She had experience and she showed up to her interview, better than most so we hired her. Her ex-boss at the restaurant she worked at (who I got while trying to get in touch with one of her references) tried to warn me. The devil never showed up. Okay, occasionally she showed up, just enough for us to keep her on, but then her car would shut down and she’d be out for four days or five. When she came she was late, like four hours late sometimes. When she came she was on her phone yelling at her children. When she came she was decent at handling z’s increasingly fragile body, but that was only when she came. When she didn’t come It was always because of her car, and to be fair she had a shitty car, but that doesn’t feel like it matters when it’s 9:00pm and you find out you’ll be doing the overnight shift and your exhausted because you already did your shift. Feel the burnout increasing.
In one of my blog posts I discuss that even if there’s a will there might not be a way. This permeating sense of defeat consumed me throughout my relationship with z. In the beginning I wanted to problem solve and make plans, in the middle I became complacent, “it’s ok if we’re not doing too much, we’re safe and happy,” in the end a constant torrent of z’s pain, staff issues, exhaustion, etc. beat him down like waves and I couldn’t pull him out of those waters. What was the point of me?
I had gotten bored once again. And because I was babysitting and in general leading a domestic life, I became obsessed with the idea of having a kid. A mother is something I always knew I wanted to be and z knew that too. At various times in our relationship I thought let’s just have a kid, but now it was getting serious, we had been dating for two years at this point, living together for one and a quarter, I needed to know if we would eventually have a kid. Z and I thought about what our life was like already, things were hard already, we were not having a kid. I thought about what my life was like, how I felt, what I wanted, I talked to my therapist.
I honestly don’t remember what led up to this, if it was a kid centered conversation or what but I sat on the couch one day after therapy and for probably the 4th time in our time living together, I told z I wanted to break up. This time we both new it was done. In the past I had felt doubt about us, gotten swept up in anxiety and said we should break up, but the emotion had always been too much, i felt like I was dying and I rescinded, set everything back to being okay. This time I felt myself dying and I let it happen, I let myself die. I was dead for three days, maybe longer. I spent hours on the floor weeping, in corners crying. If you looked at me I’d burst into tears, every breath I took held the threat of me blubbering for hours. Truly I felt like the walking dead, I wanted to die I think, for a moment I wanted to die. Z was good about it. He was having a flare up of some pain that drew his focus from the breakup for the first week, which for once was good because it kept him more level headed than me, at least about the breakup. The next week when his pain subsided and the pain of losing me hit him my emotions had already crested. Somehow I was still alive, I amazed myself. Seeing him hurt broke me, but I had lasted long enough that I felt resolute. This was what I needed and it felt physically possible to do it, which it never had before. I bequeathed unto z the cat, the light of our lives, hoping to spare him from ever feeling truly alone. Leaving Caterpillar broke my heart, but thinking of leaving z with nobody broke my heart more. We had scheduled an appointment with a couples counselor before our breakup and decided to keep the appointment. The therapist was very helpful, maybe if we had talked with her earlier we wouldn’t have ended things, but it doesn’t help to think that way. Unbeknownst to us we were having a conscious uncoupling, some people work really hard to do that but to us it came naturally. We decided I would stay a few more months until the end of summer so that z could work on replacing me staffwise and I could enjoy one last Ithaca summer, I love the fireflies and frogs and barn swallows and how clearly I can see the stars there. This confused people, but I will always be grateful for this time that we had together to heal with each other. After all, we were still best friends, we still loved each other, we still knew each other so strongly and knew how to comfort the other. I did began to resent z’s family for letting me burn myself out and blaming me for z’s weight gain, for letting me take so much responsibility for their child so that I had nothing left for myself, at least this resentment made it slightly easier to leave. I began to try to verbalize why I felt it was healthier for me to leave, at first these explanations were simple, I put myself so much into the relationship I completely lost myself (whatever that meant, it felt true).
I found out I got into a writing program in nyc that I had applied to back when I moved in with z. At some point I had thought I might commute to this program from upstate, but that would have been insane and knowing that I would have had to move away from z anyway somehow made me feel less like I was abandoning him out of pure selfishness and my inability to handle caretaking.
I had and still somewhat have a whole complex about leaving him: How could, I, a dev, be so selfish and become so burnt out. Wasn’t I supposed to be the one person specifically designed to be able to handle all this? How could I have romanticized something then let myself become so overwhelmed by it, doesn’t that make me evil like all of the people who think devs objectify disabled people think I am. And of course my parents were right, they said if I dated a disabled person I would lose myself, so I guess I can’t actually date based on my desires. Everything I wrote about us was lies, I wrote that we were doing this relationship and that we could make things work but look, I failed, I couldn’t make my relationship work. I ruined z’s life, now what if he’s alone, it’ll be my fault, how could I abandon a person i love. I wrote a book about an interabled family to try to normalize that for kids, who do I think I am trying to do anything related to the disability community when I failed in my relationship? I’m 27 and I can’t go through this again, I guess I have to date able bodied people because I know that it didn’t work out with z so probably it’ll never work with any disabled guy.
I’m trying once again to push myself to be attracted to able bodied people, it’s not impossible, just a hurdle for a guy to overcome. There’s no initial spark like I feel with a disabled guy. I’m back to feeling guilty and hating my devness even though I worked so hard to accept it before I met z. Even though they know I’m a dev, My friends all ask me what I’m looking for in my next relationship, like devness was a costume I tried on that didn’t fit so now I can put it back on the rack and put back on my normal clothes. Everytime I go on a date my mom asks me “is he… you know… because you want kids and you know that would be harder, and you wouldn’t want to pass something on to them.” I find myself wishing again that I could just be “normal” like I did before I even had the word dev. I know life is always one step forward two steps back, but I’m not even sure anymore if this is something I want to accept about myself. Maybe it really is inherently a bad preference or fetish or kink and I have to stop indulging.
This is such a long post and honestly it’s not even half of what my relationship was. In it I focused on what led to the breakup, but there really were so many good things and things I learned and ways that I grew positively. I’m so grateful I got z as a part of my life and that we continue to be so close. I know at some point I may have to spend less energy on that relationship especially when my next romantic relationship finds me, but I hope i will still get to have him in my life, he is truly a magical person. Sorry if this seems long or self pitying, like I said I’m still processing and all this has been pretty hard, but this is kind of where my heads at so far and I just felt like this would be the only place where people might understand. Anyway hope your good and that your hearts are full.
I am still processing the end of my romantic relationship with a person I still love very much, who I wanted so badly to be my dev unicorn. For those who have been on the forum for over a year, you might know part of mine and z’s story. In the beginning of our relationship I found joy in sharing some of the quirks of interabled dating on our blog. Even at that time I had doubts about us, some of which are evident when you go back and read those blog posts. First of all Z’s disability was subtly yet importantly different than what usually is attractive to me. part of my devness has always been seeing disabled guys maintain independence, something about that stubborn determination was and is so hot, and to be there when a task simply is not possible, to be decidedly needed in that moment fulfills my caring spirit. Zacc, sadly had all but lost his independence when I moved in a year and a half ago, an injury to his back had cost him the ability to eat by himself right before I met him in person for the first time, he stopped being able to use the bathroom by himself shortly after, once I moved in he lost the ability to transfer his hand from his lap to his joystick, from his joystick to his desk and vice versa. Next was pain, z had an endless supply of pain, the epicenter of which seemed to move through his body: his butt, his back, his legs, his ribs, his jaw, etc. This led to overwhelming anxiety that he would never stop hurting. At first, when I held him close to me, his head encircled next to my heart, and encouraged him to breath deeply with me and this was able to calm his pain induced anxiety, I felt this sense of pride. He told me I made him feel safer than anybody else, he needed me, but after the pain went on and on for over a year I could hear myself lying when I told him it would be okay, that he would feel better soon, i knew that I would watch him suffer the next day and the day after that, who knew what would hurt next. Then sleep, sleep was one of the first struggles we were plagued by that actively frustrated me. Z used a bipap machine to sleep and if his mask was not perfect it would not work, so it hardly ever worked. Each night I dreaded the hour to 4 hour (depending on the cooperation of the mask) routine to get z comfortable enough to sleep. Z tried mask after mask, some based on his doctor’s and bipap specialist’s suggestions and some based on google’s, none worked. We had more useless masks piled in our closet than one could use in months if they wore a new one every night. None of the masks worked, Z wasted what little money the government allowed him to have, I started having anxiety attacks before bed. Still we were in the honeymoon phase, I found caretaking romantic. I felt close to z because I was so needed by him, his family loved me, everyone was so happy that I was there.
I felt cared for. Z’s care team at that time was excellent, they brought joy and energy into our home, they were there to care for z but they did not neglect me, they did not resent if z asked them to bring me something when we were still snuggling in bed, they brought me an ibuprofen when I woke up with my period. Looking back I see how his care team was so important to the sense of ease in our relationship. I knew that they were taking care of him so I didn’t have to worry, I used my time to make art, read, watch YouTube. I took shifts as one of zs caretakers because it was convenient and I could make a little money (shitty caretaker salary, but still), but they were consistently scheduled, short, and nothing too intense. I still got to be primarily the girlfriend not just another caretaker. I realize what a difference the earlier team made because they didn’t stay and things got much harder after they left.
Some months in two of Z’s best caregivers had to leave, one to go to grad school, one moved to a different state. We lost their positivity, their good advice, their promptness, their on top of it ness, we lost a lot. Somebody who had previously been let go-ish before my time returned. She was bffs with another member of Zs staff but together they were bad news bears because they gossiped about z and his mom and got each other worked up over perceived slights at work, now she was back and the duo were back at it.
But for a while it worked. Z and I felt good, things felt back on track. I was still somewhat suffering because I had left my friends and family behind and I missed them. In the beginning when quarantine was more strict my friends and I played games every week over zoom and I had a dnd group that gossiped instead of playing dnd, I had a playwriting group that did much the same. At times I skipped these calls because if I missed z and my nighttime cuddles I missed him, but it was nice to have the option. As quarantine In nyc loosened my friends went back to in person activities and I was left alone, I was used to seeing them often or at least having the option to but now I was bored.
I looked for something new. I had started collecting plants when I arrived upstate and they were all still alive for the most part, so I thought z and I really should get a kitten. Z had first said it as an off handed remark, he had always wanted a cat, but you can’t say that around me and not expect me to find you one. One of his aides was allergic, one of the reliable aides, so I would need to find a cat that was hypoallergenic. I found a breed and proceeded to call every shelter within 100 miles, none had ever had a Siberian cat. I found and contacted maybe 5 breeders and one got back. So that was it, I found us our cat daddy. The breeder kitten would be expensive, even before toys and food and litter and vets and furniture, the cat would be expensive. We began to save. since I was the one between us with a job, even if it was just a Shitty pay caretaker job, I bought cat supplies. I got the works: a tower, food and water bowls, toys, litter box and litter, food, storage, later a water fountain. (I tended to pay for most things between me and z because I worked and he already got our groceries with snap benefits, I really just didn’t think about it at the time. I spent a lot of money while upstate, mostly because shopping was something to do and I could do it from my computer since I don’t drive and had no way to get around, but now that I’m back in nyc I really wish I had saved more of it.) We gathered cash and holiday gifts and birthday gifts for the cat and saved. Our kitten was chosen and the date set to get him.
Between the plants, the cat, and being raised by hoarders, I started gathering stuff. Not too much, to me it seemed fine and organized, but compared to z’s former minimalism it was a wee bit cluttered, the care worker duo didn’t like this. Even though one member of the duo I felt quite close with, with her partner to egg her on she began to resent my stuff in the apartment, they resented the occassional favors z asked of them on my behalf, they resented that while they were on duty I relaxed despite our apartment not being up to their standards of tidiness. What they didn’t realize is that I had been raised in a family where one was not supposed to relax while somebody else worked, so though I might be on my computer while they were helping z or doing dishes or whatever, I was wracked with guilt, I found it hard to ever take a real break both physically and mentally while in the apartment, I constantly worried that people saw me as lazy. I resented that one of the duo always came late, sometimes up to an hour, that she walked in with a brick wall of negativity that exploded out around her and hurdled toward us when she came in the door (I’m sensitive to negativity personally which made it worse), that she spent her time with us on her phone and waited to finish episodes of tv or tiktoks before fulfilling z’s requests, and watched her show while helping him with involved tasks like eating and peeing. Z had been fed up with her negativity for a while, but with me also getting swept up tensions started to rise. Social anxiety told me everyone hated me and I should be scared to take up space. When I tried to address her we exploded and she left our lives at least for a bit.
I had already taken on more work hours when the team changed initially, but wracked with guilt because I felt I had driven z’s carer and one of his best friends away, i agreed to take on whatever hours weren’t being covered along with zs stepdad. A couple days later, the departed’s best friend disappeared with an email the morning of her shift, despite assuring us many times that she would not leave. She blocked z on all communication lines and I got to see him fall apart as the rug was ripped out from under him. To be so dependent on others and have those others leave in a blink, I couldn’t imagine his terror.
I took on more caretaking and z’s mom pushed us to drop everything to try to find staff. Z had always struggled to find staff because well, it pays like shit, so even when he didn’t trust or get along with staff members his mom had always pushed him to keep them. When he lost staff she blamed him, “how could he drive them away? Didn’t he know he needed them?” She had bought our apartment for z and rented it out to us, but she found the air toxic so couldn’t actually come over to help, and though z’s stepdad was helpful his mom didn’t like giving up her husband to z for long stretches of time. Tension between z and his mom and his mom and me built up as weeks went by without solidifying new staff. She scheduled interviews for us for full days, though z argued it would exhaust him. He hadn’t need to worry though as most people never showed. I called and emailed people endlessly trying to fix what I felt I had broken, we hired multiple people who stopped showing up the second or third day. Eventually after calling every number on a list of people provided to me by the person who is supposed to find z’s staff, I found one angel. God I love her, she is still with z and she loves him and cares for him with love and loves her job and is always there when he needs her.
Things were looking up. I had started a book about z and my cat living in an interabled household and I decided to finish and self publish it. Projects kept me entertained. When our angel was there I knew z would be taken care of. We just had one more staff slot to fill. We were desperate, we posted one more indeed add and found her, the devil. She had experience and she showed up to her interview, better than most so we hired her. Her ex-boss at the restaurant she worked at (who I got while trying to get in touch with one of her references) tried to warn me. The devil never showed up. Okay, occasionally she showed up, just enough for us to keep her on, but then her car would shut down and she’d be out for four days or five. When she came she was late, like four hours late sometimes. When she came she was on her phone yelling at her children. When she came she was decent at handling z’s increasingly fragile body, but that was only when she came. When she didn’t come It was always because of her car, and to be fair she had a shitty car, but that doesn’t feel like it matters when it’s 9:00pm and you find out you’ll be doing the overnight shift and your exhausted because you already did your shift. Feel the burnout increasing.
In one of my blog posts I discuss that even if there’s a will there might not be a way. This permeating sense of defeat consumed me throughout my relationship with z. In the beginning I wanted to problem solve and make plans, in the middle I became complacent, “it’s ok if we’re not doing too much, we’re safe and happy,” in the end a constant torrent of z’s pain, staff issues, exhaustion, etc. beat him down like waves and I couldn’t pull him out of those waters. What was the point of me?
I had gotten bored once again. And because I was babysitting and in general leading a domestic life, I became obsessed with the idea of having a kid. A mother is something I always knew I wanted to be and z knew that too. At various times in our relationship I thought let’s just have a kid, but now it was getting serious, we had been dating for two years at this point, living together for one and a quarter, I needed to know if we would eventually have a kid. Z and I thought about what our life was like already, things were hard already, we were not having a kid. I thought about what my life was like, how I felt, what I wanted, I talked to my therapist.
I honestly don’t remember what led up to this, if it was a kid centered conversation or what but I sat on the couch one day after therapy and for probably the 4th time in our time living together, I told z I wanted to break up. This time we both new it was done. In the past I had felt doubt about us, gotten swept up in anxiety and said we should break up, but the emotion had always been too much, i felt like I was dying and I rescinded, set everything back to being okay. This time I felt myself dying and I let it happen, I let myself die. I was dead for three days, maybe longer. I spent hours on the floor weeping, in corners crying. If you looked at me I’d burst into tears, every breath I took held the threat of me blubbering for hours. Truly I felt like the walking dead, I wanted to die I think, for a moment I wanted to die. Z was good about it. He was having a flare up of some pain that drew his focus from the breakup for the first week, which for once was good because it kept him more level headed than me, at least about the breakup. The next week when his pain subsided and the pain of losing me hit him my emotions had already crested. Somehow I was still alive, I amazed myself. Seeing him hurt broke me, but I had lasted long enough that I felt resolute. This was what I needed and it felt physically possible to do it, which it never had before. I bequeathed unto z the cat, the light of our lives, hoping to spare him from ever feeling truly alone. Leaving Caterpillar broke my heart, but thinking of leaving z with nobody broke my heart more. We had scheduled an appointment with a couples counselor before our breakup and decided to keep the appointment. The therapist was very helpful, maybe if we had talked with her earlier we wouldn’t have ended things, but it doesn’t help to think that way. Unbeknownst to us we were having a conscious uncoupling, some people work really hard to do that but to us it came naturally. We decided I would stay a few more months until the end of summer so that z could work on replacing me staffwise and I could enjoy one last Ithaca summer, I love the fireflies and frogs and barn swallows and how clearly I can see the stars there. This confused people, but I will always be grateful for this time that we had together to heal with each other. After all, we were still best friends, we still loved each other, we still knew each other so strongly and knew how to comfort the other. I did began to resent z’s family for letting me burn myself out and blaming me for z’s weight gain, for letting me take so much responsibility for their child so that I had nothing left for myself, at least this resentment made it slightly easier to leave. I began to try to verbalize why I felt it was healthier for me to leave, at first these explanations were simple, I put myself so much into the relationship I completely lost myself (whatever that meant, it felt true).
I found out I got into a writing program in nyc that I had applied to back when I moved in with z. At some point I had thought I might commute to this program from upstate, but that would have been insane and knowing that I would have had to move away from z anyway somehow made me feel less like I was abandoning him out of pure selfishness and my inability to handle caretaking.
I had and still somewhat have a whole complex about leaving him: How could, I, a dev, be so selfish and become so burnt out. Wasn’t I supposed to be the one person specifically designed to be able to handle all this? How could I have romanticized something then let myself become so overwhelmed by it, doesn’t that make me evil like all of the people who think devs objectify disabled people think I am. And of course my parents were right, they said if I dated a disabled person I would lose myself, so I guess I can’t actually date based on my desires. Everything I wrote about us was lies, I wrote that we were doing this relationship and that we could make things work but look, I failed, I couldn’t make my relationship work. I ruined z’s life, now what if he’s alone, it’ll be my fault, how could I abandon a person i love. I wrote a book about an interabled family to try to normalize that for kids, who do I think I am trying to do anything related to the disability community when I failed in my relationship? I’m 27 and I can’t go through this again, I guess I have to date able bodied people because I know that it didn’t work out with z so probably it’ll never work with any disabled guy.
I’m trying once again to push myself to be attracted to able bodied people, it’s not impossible, just a hurdle for a guy to overcome. There’s no initial spark like I feel with a disabled guy. I’m back to feeling guilty and hating my devness even though I worked so hard to accept it before I met z. Even though they know I’m a dev, My friends all ask me what I’m looking for in my next relationship, like devness was a costume I tried on that didn’t fit so now I can put it back on the rack and put back on my normal clothes. Everytime I go on a date my mom asks me “is he… you know… because you want kids and you know that would be harder, and you wouldn’t want to pass something on to them.” I find myself wishing again that I could just be “normal” like I did before I even had the word dev. I know life is always one step forward two steps back, but I’m not even sure anymore if this is something I want to accept about myself. Maybe it really is inherently a bad preference or fetish or kink and I have to stop indulging.
This is such a long post and honestly it’s not even half of what my relationship was. In it I focused on what led to the breakup, but there really were so many good things and things I learned and ways that I grew positively. I’m so grateful I got z as a part of my life and that we continue to be so close. I know at some point I may have to spend less energy on that relationship especially when my next romantic relationship finds me, but I hope i will still get to have him in my life, he is truly a magical person. Sorry if this seems long or self pitying, like I said I’m still processing and all this has been pretty hard, but this is kind of where my heads at so far and I just felt like this would be the only place where people might understand. Anyway hope your good and that your hearts are full.
