So it's been ten days or so since the breakup and about a week since last contact. Feels like way longer—not because the miserable seconds drag, no sir, but because I feel like I mourned the death of this relationship well over a month ago and was already over it by the time I ripped off the bandaid. My mind is made up. As much as I love him and want him to be happy, it will never work and it will never make me happy.
That's not how he sees it. He sent numerous texts last Friday outlining what he was willing to change and called asking to see me. I told him no. I told him that as much as I missed him, I was pissed that he waited for me to wither and give up to say all those things. I told him that I hadn't hinted around about what I'd need—I'd begged and pleaded. For two years. And now I'm done. I got no energy left for this. Sorry.
Anyway, none of that really matters now. I'm not falling for it. BUT! I do worry. He's depressed already—was depressed even before the breakup—and he's now at rock bottom. According to how well I know him: he's doing poorly at work, he's not seeking help, and he's not sharing how he feels with anyone. He's feeling useless and alone. He's mostly silent on FB, but he did post a song today, a rather suicidal Radiohead song.
So . . . at what point do I reach out and say "Hey, how you doing?" Does that help or hurt? Do I let his friends in on the breakup and encourage them to get him out of the house? I worry about him. I don't want him to suffer, certainly don't want him to hurt himself. But I have to admit: going a whole week without looking at it as my problem or my responsibility has felt awesome. I know his happiness is not my responsibility. But I'm also genuinely concerned at this point?
Thoughts? I love you, GT.