As if it were a sporting event to which we’d both purchased tickets, and I’d denied him the chance to see the big game, D. remains upset that I “forbade” him from being present at the abortion:

On Tuesday, it was completely unfair of you to not let me in that office. I had every right to be there as you did, and because you didn’t get your way you forbade me from going. Do you honestly think I would have blown up at you right there?

What he can’t seem to grasp is that no one had a “right” to be there. By virtue of circumstance, my presence was demanded; clearly no abortion would be had in my absence. I gave him every warning, every smoke signal, every humanly possible indication that, should he continue to choose to be aloof and unsupportive, he would be unwelcome in that room. And it isn’t that I was even remotely fearful he’d blow up at me; rather, I was afraid he’d continue to do just what he’d been “doing” for the previous two weeks. That is: nothing. And whether it was an unrealistic expectation or not, what I needed on Tuesday was infinitely more than nothing.

To describe what happened today is impossible. Sum it up to love, lots of love. Love from M., who picked me up, who brought me to CVS, where I could buy pads, who drove me to the doctor, who advised me on how much Ativan to take, who sat with me in the waiting room, who held my hand through the abortion, who waited in line for my medication while I made my follow-up appointment, who drove me back to her house, who let me sleep on her $1,300-bed, who drove me to the house where my kiddos were, who stayed with me and the kiddos, who let me sleep on the couch while she watched the kiddos, who just damned loved me through the whole damned day.

It’s so cliched, but you never know who your friends are until shit hits the fan.

I’m not happy there’s shit to be hitting, but I’m infinitely grateful that the friends are coming to the surface. I love you all.

3:36pm — D. calls, he asks how I’m doing, we chat for a bit, he says he can’t see me tonight or tomorrow but wants to drive me on Tuesday. I say that I’m not sure how I feel about him coming on Tuesday, since he hasn’t really “been there” for me. An argument ensues, he reminds me of the supposedly “mean and horrible things” I said on the phone last week (when we were talking about privacy issues), and then he hangs up.

The following text message storm ensues:

Me: That’s really crummy for you to just hang up on me like that.

D: You’re not making it easy to talk to you. I’m tired of feeling like my best isn’t good enough. I’m tired of it all and I give up.

Me: I don’t know where any of that comes from other than you. Those are your words, not mine. What doesn’t help is you hanging up and otherwise disappearing every time things don’t go the way you want them to go. What am I supposed to do right now? Sit here and pretend everything is okay and I haven’t just spent most of the past week alone? I don’t know what you expect, but it seems unfair.

D: Like I said, I give up. You don’t want me there on Tuesday? Fine. Your things will be waiting for you when you get back.

Me: I said I didn’t know yet. You’re being unreasonable. You won’t even talk to me like an adult, but you expect me to be comfortable with you there? You need to understand how difficult that is.

D: Fuck you, A. I understand plenty.

Me: Oh just stop. That’s the way I deserve to be treated? Give me a break.

D: That entire text was uncalled for on my end. Take care.

Me: I wish you would just stop worrying about past mistakes and supposed expectations and just BE the caring person we both know you are.

D: That is something you needn’t concern yourself with anymore.

Me:

And so I’m left, once again, alone. I’m not quite sure what to do, other than to stop fighting. It’s not worth it anymore.