Last night was not a good night.
Mike and I had a fight. It was about stupid stuff; it always is. But there were bigger issues going on. He feels neglected. I feel frustrated at our inability to talk about that or to work on fixing it. The way he chooses to express himself when we argue makes me feel like he doesn't respect or care about my feelings, because he has a tendancy to cut me short whenever I'm saying anything he doesn't like, either by interrupting me to say something very hurtful, or by walking off. It doesn't matter what my intentions were; if it's phrased in a way that he doesn't like, it's enough to illicit that sort of reaction.
So anyway, I left. I told him I wanted him to come with me, but that I was really upset and needed to be in my own space, not at his parents' house. He didn't want to come. I told him that if he walked off in the middle of our conversation again, I would just leave. He did walk off again. I didn't leave right away -- I waited probably 30 minutes, sitting there in my car, hoping for something from him, although I'm not sure quite what, and hoping that it would not come down to me driving off alone and leaving him -- but it came down to that. It broke my heart.
I meant to go home, get smashed, and indulge in a few cigarettes, something that I haven't done in forever. It was meant to be both a celebration and a mourning session -- I was going to drink to celebrate having had the balls to walk away, and to mourn the possible loss of a relationship that has meant a lot to me, with someone I deeply love. I don't know for sure that it's a loss, but something last night felt very final. Now I'm just sad, and not thinking clearly about it at all.
Alex and Mary had just gotten home when I got there, though, so my plans were aborted. Alex didn't approve, so he stayed with me and tried to be helpfully supportive until I fell asleep. Then he left. I slept until an hour or so ago this morning.
Today's a new day, I guess. We'll see where it takes me.