As far as families go, I'm pretty lucky

     About a year and a half ago, I was the closest to rationally considering suicide that I've ever really come. I'd just realized that my religion and much of my life was not what I thought it was. I didn't know what to do.
     Mostly, I was terrified what my family would think. I knew they'd be devastated to lose our eternal family, knew they'd mourn my falling away and worry over my spiritual salvation. I legitimately thought that my death would be less painful for them. That way, they'd take comfort in the plan of salvation; they would be okay because they would know that they'd seem me again someday in the celestial kingdom.
     I thought my family would rather have me dead than have me leave the church.
     Today, I sat next to Lauren, eating our breakfast with my steaming cup of coffee.
     I would say it's a miracle, but it's really not. I never should have doubted my family and I'm ashamed I did. You just hear so many horror stories of disownment. I didn't expect my family to react that way, but I'm sure the people from those horror stories didn't either. I was scared and it's been a bumpy ride. Like any transition, we've had some growing pains. But my family has always had my back. It's a blessing, but no miracle that they've loved me through it.
     Please accept my serious relationship with coffee and know that I love you.

Moonlight Beach

     When Dad suggests Moonlight Beach, I'm hesitant. The last two times I was there were ... important. But it's his turn to pick the beach and protesting would be weird - this is my family's favorite beach.

     But as we walk down the ramp to the beach, I look to the right side of the beach, against the cliffs and by the rickety wooden stairs.

     Jason proposed here.

     I knew it was happening. All the girls went to get pedicures while the guys had "bro-time" or some lame excuse that allowed them to go set up the proposal. I remember walking onto the beach with bare feet and freshly painted toenails. My heart was racing as I imagined what waited for me. Tangled lanterns and beach - those were my two suggestions. He took the beach suggestion, so I was excited to see the lanterns.

     They were mediocre at best. Sad little cardstock and printed paper (he got the sun design right at least) taped together with itty bitty fake candles to kind of light them. It was just a little underwhelming.

     His speech was nice, even if my family was two steps away and could hear every word. The ring was beautiful and we got great pictures with the sunset. I told myself that I didn't need the perfect proposal because I had the perfect guy.

     But I wanted more ... from both the guy and the proposal. No one should feel lame about their proposal.

     Shaking off the memory, I help Mom and Dad stake out our beach blanket territory for today. It's a beautiful day - not ridiculously hot like last weekend - and the waves look nice. Dad made a good choice in suggesting Moonlight.

     We sunscreen up (meaning I spray Mom's back while she simultaneously cringes at the cool temperature of the suncreen and demands another coat ... I spray my shoulders and am done (#lifeguardtan) ) and grab the boogie boards to head into the waves.

     It's while we're trying to swim past the first wave breaking point that the other memory seizes me. I get a glance of the beach as it narrows to the left of the entrance ramp - a slender strip of beach populated by pebbly sand and large boulders.

     Jason and I sat on those rocks, about six months after the proposal, three and a half months ago from today .... and one day before our original wedding date. We sat on those rocks and acknowledged - out loud, for the first time, in heart-breaking certainty - that we didn't know how to make our relationship work.

     This memory is harder to shake off. The proposal was upsetting because I felt so apathetic about it. But the apathy makes it easy to shake off. I'd give a lot to feel apathetic towards the second memory.

     Boogie boarding today proves to be a good distraction. I can't mope in the past when most of my mental (and physical) energy is devoted to not getting pummeled by waves. I get some good waves, long rides. Mom goes in about halfway through, but Dad and I brave the seaweed death trap and stay out longer. 

     The usual Capri-suns, wheat-thins, and sandwiches await us when we make it to the blanket. We munch and even break out the peanut-butter m&ms.

     And sitting there with my parents, for the first time in along time .... I feel okay. I don't feel the excitement of an engagement that lays to the right of us or the dread of a breakup to the left. We sit in the middle, the part of the beach filled with happy, unspoiled memories of days a lot like this one, and I relax into the safety of the middle of the beach, into the feeling of "okay."

     

     Please be ready for beach days of boogie boarding and braving seaweed, and know that I love you.

     There are so many reasons why I need this right now. To calm my anxieties, to validate myself, to have this in writing to come back to in hard times. Regardless...

This one is for me.

     Jess-
     I know I'm hard on you. I expect so much, push so hard, and don't take enough time to give you rest, to be gentle with you.
     So here it is.
     You were/are completely valid in your decision to end things with Jason. You knew deep down that you couldn't marry him, that because of his bipolar (and because of things outside his bipolar as well) there were fundamental deal breakers, things that couldn't - that still can't - be bridged, fixed, or changed.
     You were justified in staying though. You love(d?) him and that doesn't just go away. It shows the depth of your feelings and commitment that you stayed so long and tried so hard to make it work. That doesn't make you weak. It makes you human.
     It's okay to be unsure and feel conflicted. It doesn't mean you made the wrong decision. It's okay to feel angry with him and still miss him. Those aren't mutually exclusive. It's even okay that you feel like part of it is your fault, but just because you feel it doesn't make it true.
     So take your time. Be unsure and conflicted. Ride these emotions out. Because they will subside. You won't feel this way forever and thank goodness for that.
     You've gotten through tough breakups before and you've had a lot of time to prepare for this one. Deep down, just like you know you can't marry him, you know you'll be okay at the end of this.
     And just think what could be waiting on the other side of "okay."
     Please be strong, be brave, and please be gentle with yourself, Jess.
     And know that I love you.

I don't have the energy to be dramatic or artsy about this because it just freaking sucks

After a year of not writing, a mixture of boredom (graduating college is weird) and pain (breaking things off with my fiance) have brought me back.
There is too much to catch up on and not enough words to say it. The scary part though is that I don't even want to write about it all. Not yet. I've always said writing it is how I mourn the relationship and (besides the fact that it's not truly ended yet) I'm just not ready to mourn it.
Because it has been one of the biggest adventures of my life so far. A crazy, beautiful, hard, and heart-breaking adventure with a wonderful man. A man that I was ready to marry.
But a man that is not you.
This heart-breaking realization has been a long time coming, but the lack of surprise doesn't make up for the pain of it. I love him. And if we were already married, I would try to push through a little further. But we aren't married. And I can't commit to a marriage where it has so far proven impossible for us to take care of each other. I deserve someone who can be strong on my off days. Not someone who will perpetuate the bad days and make them worse.
He doesn't mean to. He would never hurt me. But the truth is that we aren't a good match, not with our mental health. We aren't breaking up because I am depressed/anxious or because he is bipolar. We are breaking up because of the combination of the two.
It doesn't work.
It doesn't change the fact that I want to keep trying, I want to fix things, want to figure a way out of this. I don't want to face the pain of the breakup. I keep hoping that he will somehow convince me out of breaking up with him, the same way he did about a year ago. But he won't. Because he knows as well as I do that we don't work together. We are both finding ways to delay the inevitable but it is inevitable.
We aren't good for each other. We were for so long and I keep trying to find the moment that changed. Why didn't his bipolar manifest itself earlier? To show us that we weren't a good match a long time ago. Or even manifesting later, when we were already married and had to stick around and figure it out.
We don't have to figure it out. We are free to choose a marriage, a life that isn't so hard. And we are.
He is not you. 
I'm trying so hard to find a way to be okay with that.
Please have (or get) a handle on your mental health and know that I love you.

Tanner's Graduation Day

     We were originally going to have our wedding a few days after Tanner's graduation. It just made sense; the whole family would be in town and it was in California, practically in the same city.
     But now Tanner has the whole weekend to himself.
     And considering the argument Jason and I had last week...
     We go to lunch before the graduation ceremony and end up with a few hours to spare. Someone suggests a park so the grandkids can get some energy out. Which is how, two days before I was originally supposed to be getting married, I'm instead sitting on a park bench by myself, watching my siblings and their spouses play with their kids, like a big happy family.
     After a few minutes, Tanner joins me on the bench. We watch everyone playing for a moment in silence before he awkwardly starts.
     "Sooo I heard about the Jason thing."
     "The Jason thing," I repeat blankly. There's a long pause where neither of us is sure what to say. "What does that mean?" Because I'm not even sure myself right now.
     "Well...he's not here," Tanner says, like that clarifies everything.
     I press my lips together. "Things are kind up in the air right now."
     He nods but doesn't say anything, like he's giving me a chance to speak up. When I don't, he takes a breath to say something else and I -
     "I was supposed to be getting married this weekend. Not breaking up."
     There's a second delay where he absorbs my words and then he says "awww Jess" and wraps an arm around my shoulders, somehow managing to be protective and tender and sympathetic all at the same time. I lean my head against his shoulder.
     "I'm sorry," he says and even though tons of people have said this lately, it means more coming from him. "I've never been that close to marriage, but you know Sarah and I were ring shopping before we broke up. It's rough."
     The best kind of silence settles between us then, one of commiseration and understanding. One of his kids calls out to him and he smiles, lifting his free hand to wave at them.
     "It was worth it in the end." He squeezes my shoulder. "It all led me to Emily and now I've got this family..." He gestures at them like he can't find the words to describe how wonderful they are. "You'll get here too."
     "I know." And I do. But that makes a minuscule difference on the pain right now.
     I take a deep breath. I feel a bit ridiculous that Tanner is the one showing emotional support when today is supposed to be his day, when I'm the one supposed to be supporting him at his graduation. And I will, I suppose; I'll get my turn to be supportive later today. That's the way families are, I guess. Giving comfort, lending strength, taking turns being the supportive one. That's what was missing with Jason. It was always my turn with him.
     Please take turns with me being supportive and know that I love you.

Jason is in a behavioral hospital

     After a rough two days, Jason completely lost it and started talking about "not wanting to be here" and, scarier, even specific methods. I called a help center and got him checked into a behavioral hospital. He is supposed to be there a week. He has a soft diagnosis of bipolar, which makes sense, considering how this literally came out of nowhere. He just swung into depression so suddenly and violently. Literally almost violently.
     I saved his life but I don't think I saved our relationship. He screamed at me repeatedly while getting him checked in. Told me this was my fault and other crap like that. Hugged me before I left and said he had faith that we would pull through this.
     I don't know how I haven't seen the evidence of his bipolar before now. Tonight it was so obvious. He is like two different people and I'm only in love with one of them.
     I'm putting my faith in medicine and time. That's what it took for me to figure out depression and how to work with it.
     Please don't hate me for trying to help you and know that I love you.