We didn't really fix it that night. We tried, we tried getting close to eachother without causing more damage. We tried to find some common ground. But it's hard, when we're both hypersensitive and hurting.
To me, she was punishing me for being ill, she was confirming my fear that my weakness made me unworthy of her love, she was kicking me when I was on the ground, and there was nothing I could do that would make me good enough for her. She didn't love me anymore because I was sick and weak and useless, and all I should do was shut up and accept it. It broke my heart, but I couldn't find any other explanation. That was the truth as I saw it that night, and everything she said and everything she did was filtered through that view of reality.
What did she see? I don't know, exactly, but when we talked about it on the phone yesterday I got the feeling it was something eerily similar to what I saw, but turned the other way around. That I was punishing her, drawing my love from her, for going away. That I only said that it was okay that she went, but if she did I would not love her anymore. Or something. And of course, that there was a set of magic "right questions" that she had to ask to make me alright again, and I wouldn't tell her what they were but if she didn't ask them I would leave her.
When we're both deadly afraid of losing the other's love, when we're both feeling ashamed and not good enough, we both want the others' love and assurance. But we're not capable of giving it, and so it ends in despair and heartache and martyrdom. We both love eachother to death, and we're sitting a metre away from eachother, grieving the loss of the others' love.
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