Have you ever given up on someone? Why?
That’s the writing prompt. Out of the book of 500 I wrote about last week: so I bought this book.
First of all, why did I choose this prompt? I’m not entirely sure. It seems a bit serious, but why not?
The first half of the prompt is a yes or no question. Easy, right? When I delve into my memory though, it’s hard to think of anyone I can confirm I have completely and entirely given up on. Except for one.
Which means my answer is yes. Yes I have given up on someone. Strangely, I don’t feel any guilt or remorse for this fact. Even though I was married to him and he’s the father of my children. The person I once thought I would always be there for. Despite anything. Because love is supposed to be unconditional. But here’s the thing. He decided he would rather. Rather not be with me. Rather be with someone else. Rather not only be with, but make a life with someone else. And while yes, there is more to the destruction of a long term marriage than that, it is something I cannot return from. Choices have been made, not just by me but by others as well. And I, somewhere early in the choosing, decided to give up on someone.
Giving up though, means moving on. And not thinking about it all. Not so much anger or sadness or fear of what’s to come. So I absolutely do not regret giving up. If I hadn’t, I’m not sure I’d be sane. Yes, readers who know me might question whether I truly am anyway.
Outside of this particular situation though, again, I don’t think I’ve ever given up on anyone. I’ve been accused of being fiercely loyal. And I believe that’s true. If I care about someone I am not going to stop. Although there aren’t very many people I am particularly close to. I like to be helpful and encouraging. Though I’ve come to realize being loyal to a fault can be a hard row to hoe [okay, so I really wanted to throw that expression in….]. It really is true.
Maybe this prompt was more introspective than I’d prefer. I might pick something a bit lighter next time. But it’s therapeutic I suppose, to record how one sees oneself. And to think about more than what I’d do if I’d won the lottery.