Crim Dell

Today was a symbolic day for me.

Nearly twelve years ago, I kneeled down on Crim Dell, and proposed to Kristen. Several months prior, she’d given me the “marry me, or it’s over” ultimatum, and I wasn’t strong enough to walk away. For a thousand unhealthy reasons, I was too afraid to be alone. I asked my Mom if I could give Kristen her engagement ring, and despite her trying to object and tell me to be sure, I gave Kristen Mom’s engagement ring.

Prophetic, since that’s the ring Dad gave her? Why not? But, that’s inconsequential.

Two beautiful girls and ten years of marriage later, I met Dawn.

My marriage hadn’t been happy for a very, very long time. I still, to this day, remember driving up to DC with Jeremy - or was it in New York? - the day I found out that Kristen was pregnant with Emma. What should have been the happiest day of my life was filled with the realization that I was trapped.

I wouldn’t change that for anything. First Emma, then Sarah are the two most important people in my life. They’re amazing girls, and the best daughters any man could ever want.

But, at a fundamental level in my life, I was alone.

Just recently, I was diagnosed with Adult ADD. Looking back over high school, where I was successful because I had someone - my Mom - to take care of all the things I couldn’t bring myself to focus on long enough to take care of, and then looking at my time at the College, where everything fell apart quite spectacularly, it’s easy to see why that fear of failure and the fear of being alone led me to Kristen. She took care of me, and all the things that I couldn’t be bothered to focus on long enough to take care of.

In short, she was my surrogate mother.

She resented it. She resented me, as hard as it is for her to admit. Resentment bred resentment, resentment led to anger, anger to hate, and hate led to a marriage that had ended in all practical terms a year or two before I ever met Dawn.

Dawn made me realize, by her example, that I didn’t have to settle for being unhappy. I could define happiness on my own. So, I left my wife and girls, and went to find happiness.

Except, I didn’t. I left for Dawn, and the security of someone else. I didn’t do the Right Thing for Me, and live alone, and get strong, and be happy on my own. I moved in with Dawn.

I tried to get better. I tried to do the Right Thing, and face my demons. But, being honest right now, I was too afraid. I was too afraid of being alone, afraid of failing, afraid of everything. Instead of taking care of me, I tried to put Dawn in the position that Kristen had, and my Mom had before her: someone to take care of me.

It took Kristen years to build up enough resentment to end up hating me. It didn’t take Dawn nearly that much time.

It didn’t help that I did some other things that really hurt Dawn. It’s not important what they were, here, in the public. For Dawn, they were a fundamental betrayal of trust, and try as she might to get away from me long enough to heal, her pushing me away only scared me more, and only forced me to try to pull her closer.

It was a spiral that I wasn’t strong enough to get out of. Dawn was.

Dawn asked me to leave on the first night of our trip to St. Thomas, for her sister’s wedding. I sat on the beach that night, writing emails to my best friends, and to Dawn, then seriously considered just swimming out so deep that I couldn’t swim back.

Every day since, I’m glad I didn’t. I’ve got two amazing girls who are the reason I didn’t.

Every day since, I’ve wanted to fix everything between me and Dawn. As much as I’ve hurt her, as much as I’ve made things between us unbearable, I’ve wanted to fix them.

But I can’t.

Dawn has two camps of men in her life: those that have hurt her, and those that haven’t. I’m in that first camp, now. For Dawn, there’s no opportunity for anyone who’s hurt her to move back into some third camp - people who will never hurt her again. She cannot - no, will not allow anyone who’s hurt her a chance to do it again.

She tried with me, likely more times than I’ll ever know. Every time, I wasn’t strong enough, healthy enough to stop hurting her, stop trying to pull her closer to me, stop doing all the things that made her hate me more.

Today, I decided that after I dropped off the girls to go to church, I’d walk around and take pictures of the fall in Williamsburg. Photography was something Dawn and I did - something I failed at, when we wanted to use it to build a business together. Every time I look at my camera, flashes of memories with Dawn come to my mind, entwined with the painful reminders of Just One More Thing I Failed At.

But today, I needed to take that back, for me. I need that therapy, that release. Williamsburg is haunted for me - the office, where Dawn’s cubicle still sits vacant; the restaurants where we ate; the way I fold my clothes; making cheese quesadillas for the girls; Steven’s old box of crayons.

Today I decided to start taking back the things I get comfort from, and replacing the pain and hurt with … I don’t know what. Something else - regret, loss, something other than pain.

I found myself walking across campus, and made my way almost unconsciously to Crim Dell.

I spent a lot of time at the College, when I was falling apart and couldn’t handle things, when I was failing, when I was avoiding the hard work of succeeding, sitting at Crim Dell, underneath the large magnolia trees, climbing in the branches.

The story of Crim Dell is that, if a man and woman walk across Crim Dell and kiss on it, then the only way that the two of them can break up is if one throws the other off the bridge.

For me, it’s held a symbolic place in my life. It’s where I spent a lot of time avoiding the hard choices, it’s where I proposed to Kristen so I wouldn’t be alone.

Today, I walked across the bridge alone, and halfway across, just started crying.

I miss my girls every day when they’re not here with me. I miss Dawn and Steven, all the time.

When the good things happen, I want to call her. When the bad things happen, I want her to offer her comfort and support.

That’s not possible, now. Not from her.

On the phone with Dawn, when I asked her about her dating other people, she said that she needed to feel safe in the arms of a man. That hurt on so many levels, from the fact that in spite of my Mom beating into my head the idea that I could never hurt a woman that Dawn could still be scared of me, to the fact that I want to feel safe, too – but in her arms again, and can’t imagine feeling safe with anyone else. The fact that she can just makes me want to vomit.

There are a ton of pieces to my life, scattered around this town. There are a lot of things that I’ve lost, that I need to find again.

I’m working on me, now. I’m working on getting better, being strong, being able to get up each morning without the almost unbearable hurt from not having the possibility of Dawn being there, being able to go to bed at night without succumbing to the need to just call her and beg, and cry, and plead for her to not close the door on me yet.

And still, I hold on to the hope that, when I am better, that she’ll be willing to let me be the first one who, when I’m better, gets another chance.

I’m off to work on me, now.