When you left here, it was messy and painful. Your choice to have sex with our housemate was part of that. I think you anticipated a fun, hot, lighthearted encounter. Maybe no one would know. Probably you had zero idea what the consequences would be.
I’m sorry you made that choice. I hope sex with our housemate was wonderful. But please let me tell you how it felt for me.
I didn’t want you to go. You were the only person in our house who showed up for me beside my spouse. I cried, that you were leaving–it got hard toward the end. It was to the point that I didn’t even want to be home.
Separating felt horrible. I wanted you on the other side of the wall. I also love your freedom, and I was glad you could go. But separating felt like a rip. I didn’t want the change.
You told me there was a box of sacred things you wanted to show me that you were bringing with you–things I’d given you and things that reminded you of me. Altar things. You invited me to look at that box with you–it sounded meaningful. When you asked me if there was anything I wanted as you left, I said maybe I would like a jewelry to wear. You told me that maybe in that box, there might be something for me.
I looked forward to an hour of connection, as we looked through the box together. But it never happened. You were busy and prioritized other things. Maybe you forgot or decided against it. But the chaos of that last week or so, I associate with my needs going out the window. It was a confusing time, and you were trying to do so many things.
Yes, it hurt me to feel forgotten and unimportant. But this was your life you were uprooting. I tried to have perspective. I’m the middle aged person here, with my kind spouse, a cozy room, and clear vision of my life. My ancestors are there for me, and I trust Parent Earth more than anything.
I’m sorry if your ancestors let you down. You’re figuring stuff out in a big way. Anyone’s allowed to make mistakes, but especially you, as you got rid of / packed up everything you owned and started off on a new life. There was uncertainty and risk. Probably all of your relationships were in flux, and it’s no surprise that people who care would get hurt.
A day was set for your departure. Then the date was changed. The night before you left, I prayed a blessing with you and your partner for your travels. It felt good to hold hands with both of you in a circle and ask Mother God to protect you, ask that people would treat you respectfully, and there would be fairness and consent in your interactions with one another and in the world. It felt good to hug you both.
Then you didn’t really go–you stayed nearby in a way I didn’t predict. By moving out, you had made yourself homeless. It was confusing to figure out how the house could support you. What was appropriate? When would you really go?
For a few days you lingered nearby. It was hard because you matter to me. It was hard to let go and say goodbye. But then when it wasn’t really goodbye. You were seeing some people but had no plans with me; it was disorienting.
I decided that maybe I didn’t really matter to you. These other people mattered to you. And then you were really gone, on a day I wasn’t sure of.
Then two of our housemates broke up, and I was shocked. I love these people and want them to be happy. We had been through a lot, getting used to that relationship, and I was sad it was over.
“What happened?” I asked the one who had been dumped.
“I’ll tell you,” she said.
My housemate who I love very much went with me to a nearby park and told me. She explained that it would be abbreviated because parts of the story were not hers to tell. But the person who had been her girlfriend decided she needed to be monogamous with her wife. So my housemate got dumped in that relationship-style negotiation.
Later I heard that you had sex with our housemate, and I surmised that the sex you had with our housemate had precipitated that breakup. When you did it with the one of the new people, her girlfriend realized she needed monogamy, so my good housemate friend lost her first real girlfriend in that shuffle.
When someone told me that you had had sex with that housemate, I felt like I would puke. I was overcome with howling, animal jealousy.
Not that it would have made sense for you to have sex with me–our age difference is great. If you had had sex with me, that would have been dangerously destabilizing. My jealousy was that I didn’t get a clear goodbye or look at the box of special altar things. I was lost. Yet you had the time and energy to fuck the new pretty 20 year old. It was heartbreaking.
That news sealed the deal. I didn’t really matter to you–maybe I never mattered to you. Your irresponsibility was harmful. Maybe you were just selfish, and I had been mistaken to feel close to you. I decided to close my heart and stop giving resources to you. It was sad, to lose you as a housemate, and then to lose you as someone to trust.
I cried a lot and felt more irrelevant socially in the house. I cook well, bring in inexpensive eggs from local farms, and track birthdays. The flowers are nice. I do a lot in some ways.
But that was a low. I felt like I don’t really matter in our community. It’s wrong for me to give and give of myself when no one cares.
energy isn’t finite
Then some time passed. The pain I felt about you having sex with our housemate dissipated. Rationally I know that energy isn’t finite, and time doesn’t make sense. Of course a sexual thrill is very different from looking at a box of altar things. And you never promised to prioritize me. Who am I to you, anyway?
Every time I pulled tarot cards and asked what was really going on with you, Spirit said you were off to other adventures, and that things between me and you were sweet. There was no betrayal. We are in each others lives for a kind purpose–I have nothing to fear.
You’re a young person doing your thing. My role in your life is to be a chill support. We can strengthen one another as we can. My role was never central, and that’s as it should be.
I realized some people in the south love me very much, and I gave you their contact info in case it could be helpful on your travels. When I mentioned that to my spouse, he reminded me of my previous heartbreak decision to stop giving you resources.
“Oh, I totally forgot I decided that,” I said.
“Yeah, I’m just reminding you what you said before. Not telling you you should follow through with that,” he clarified.
So what is it? Do you really care, or are you just fucking around? The hard part is–in a way, I think you really care. And at the same time, you do fuck around. When I get intense and emo, that feels unlivable. But when I take a deep breath, step back, and remember my role in your life, it’s actually ok.
You bring a little chaos to the situation–that’s actually a good thing. We love you for many reasons, and one reason is your energy. If we appreciate the fun part of your energy, we need to accept the challenging part too.
I love order, sense, and fairness. But chaos is powerful magic. I welcome your chaos. Maybe that’s the push that the situation needed. Knocking shit down is important, like a forest fire, or the Tower. Something more vibrant can grow in the place of what wasn’t really working.
If Mother God wanted the relationship to last, it would have. Sometimes destruction is the most important manifestation of the divine.
I think of the story you told me about how when you were a kid, your parents said you could be any religion. You said Satanist, and they said no, not that one.
Maybe inside you there’s the Satanist kid you wished to be. Centering yourself and centering pleasure is smart, actually. I respect you, and that means all of you. Even what I don’t understand.
I love you,