Breakups are never fun, right?
Usually they involve detaching statements of “it’s not you, it’s me”, emotional responses and the like. With Tony and Mark, both times it was me doing the breaking. Both times it was them doing the tissue-passing. I always felt horrible that things weren’t working out, but what was the alternative?
Stay and languish? Uh uh.
For the past year, for the majority of the last few years, I’ve needed to have that conversation. You know the one, the DTR.
But instead I’ve hemmed. I’ve hawed. I’ve made excuses of “it will get better” all to the chagrin of my tomorrow self. But then big things sometimes have to happen to move the needle closer to the outer edge of the record.
And the end has come, though surprisingly not on May 21, 2011.
It has come time to part ways. Mostly. Sugar, I’m kicking you to the curb. My dear John letter would look something like this:
This relationship has become abusive. I don’t like who I become when you’re around and I sure as heck don’t like who I become right after you leave. Somehow, you’ve weaseled your way into the most intimate circles of my life. You put on airs as if you belong at every party, at many meals and I just don’t buy it anymore. The more I get to know you sugar, the more I think you’re toxic.
But here’s the thing: you’re everywhere. Like a silent stalker, a peeping tom- I catch you in the most unexpected places.
I’m learning to live without you bit by bit. I’m remembering how sweet tomatoes taste bought from summer farmer’s markets. I’m relishing the berries that sweeten the end of the meal. I’m finding a healthier relationship by mostly eliminating this one. Because let’s be honest, I will not be rid of you entirely. I know this and I know you probably are the best guest at the brightest celebrations. So here’s the difference sugar: I’m redefining the terms of this relationship. I get to choose to empty the glass jar, soon to be bereft of your white sparkling crystals with something else like maize. And that bag in my pantry- yes I’m looking at you, brown sugar, you’re not much better.
This isn’t easy. I’ve really relied upon you more than anyone ever should, but for the sake of my health, my family and the beautiful heritage of diabetes creeping behind me like a pesky shadow, I have to do this. I hope you understand.
It’s you and it’s me.