I told my therapist in my last appointment with her, that I never hated being a woman more than when I was married.

In the last phone call I had with my former spouse, he told me about his take on "feminine" and "masculine energy."  And then he proceeded to tell me about how I came across as masculine.  When I pressed for examples, he couldn't provide anything specific, just how in the last few months we were together (before he tore my world apart and turned it upside-down), I came across as "masculine" because of all the arguing that happened between us.

My takeaway from that is that apparently it's not "feminine" to argue or have opinions.  That the modern or new age way of thinking of feminine is that a female is demure, is meek, she does everything expected of her by her man (without him needing to communicate what that is), she doesn't have any opinions of her own, and no personality because she will blend in and mesh with him so perfectly, it's like she's an extension of who he is.

I remember telling him that I tried to be feminine with him.  He told me with the right person, I wouldn't have to try; it would come naturally.  Like usual, I worded what I meant poorly.  I don't have to "try" to be feminine; it's that I allowed myself to be feminine around him.  

To me, being feminine is an extremely vulnerable thing.  It means feeling deeply (an unfortunate side affect of being me), it means being soft, it means being vulnerable and open and all walls are down.  I allowed myself to be that way for him - with him - because I thought he was safe.

I was wrong.  I allowed myself to feel with him when I was first with him, because I thought he was worth feeling things for.  But over the course of time, he proved that he wasn't safe.  When I felt things deeply, when I tried to express how I was feeling, when I attempted to communicate and tell him where I was coming from with my perspective, it was ignored or written off.  He told me thinks like "you're being too sensitive" or "you're overreacting."  And then he would try to argue that how I felt mattered to him, but when I attempted to tell him how I was feeling, it was ignored every. single. time.

In that same conversation, he told me with the right person I wouldn't have to try to be feminine.  (Again, poor wording on my end caused the misunderstanding, but it doesn't matter now.)

With the "right" person, I can be feminine.  Because that person will be both emotionally competent and intelligent, and he will understand that me being "feminine" (i.e. soft, vulnerable, feeling emotions) will be something to protect and value, as well as encourage me to feel those things.

My former spouse is not that way.  He did not encourage my femininity, he was not emotionally intelligent to be able to understand my feelings or the way I was.  Emotions and what they are, are very limited to him.  Like thinking I will be angry for him asking how I am, when it's not anger.  Not at all.  It's indignation, and feeling misunderstood, because he was the one who made the choice to walk out and betray me and the vows he made, so he lost all rights to be able to ask how I am and find out anything about my life.

Unfortunately for me, I still love and care about him.  But as my therapist put it, "you didn't sign away your love when you signed the divorce papers." 

It feels like it has been too long, but not long enough.  I still feel like I am living a nightmare I can't wake up from.  That he was able to walk away free and happy and without burden, and I have been left behind, torn apart, a shadow of my former self, and forever unwanted.  How typical that he can walk away happy and without consequence, and I am left picking up the pieces, never to be the same.

That's the story of my life, though.  Suffering for the actions and decisions of other people, because they are not the ones impacted.

I hate that I still love him.  I hate that I still care.  I hate that I still think about him daily, when he so quickly moved on and doesn't think twice about me.

I hate that I gave my heart to someone who didn't treasure it, and who threw it away when it didn't serve him anymore.

I hate everything.