It’s taken me a while to put together this piece. You see the thing is, I’ve been going through a lot lately — a broken heart to be exact. No it didn’t end ugly, but it ended, and I think the process of turning over a new leaf and starting over after being with the person I thought I was going to marry for the past five years, yields me some time to just be.
And that’s what I’ve been doing since that awful November night. I’m learning to be. Be on my own and all alone, be a decent human being, be kind, be just, be happy. I’m saying yes to everything, overbooking each day of the week because in every silent moment, I start to cry and overanalyze what I should have done or what I could have done or what could still happen — all of these things that are not present. So I’m trying to be here, now.
Every morning, I wake up to a nightmare. In the brief moments before becoming aware of my surroundings, I actually think he and our pup are in bed with me. And then it hits me like a freight train. Every. Single. Morning.
“But it gets better.”
“Just give it time.”
The best I can offer to your advice is that I’m trying.
I find myself reminiscing way too much. Yes, I will always love him. Yes, we had some pretty fucking great times together — moments and memories that I refuse to forget but sometimes wish I could because it hurts to think about them. Plans that were not fulfilled, promises that were broken, and loss.
People have told me that grieving the end of a relationship is similar to grieving someone’s death. I completely disagree. The sad and ugly truth is that this person took the time to look at me and evaluate me, and imagine his life and future with me, and didn’t. choose. me. Instead, he chose to walk away.
I’ve dealt with loved ones dying one too many times and this is absolutely nothing like that. It’s a different kind of pain, a different kind of loss, something that will forever remain in time and space and eventually just become vague memories of someone I used to know like the back of my hand.
But we said we’d be friends.
But we started to build a life together.
We went from being best friends, to crazy teenagers in love, to a long distance relationship, to making plans, living together and starting our lives.
But that’s just it, there was no solid foundation. We had trust issues from when we were apart, insecurities that we didn’t know how to address, jealousy ran rampant, the inability to effectively communicate, which just led to the inevitable, countless and unresolved arguments. We kept going and not growing.
I think the saddest and most painful part of everything is that we still love each other, and probably always will. Our love and friendship is probably what kept us together for so long in the first place. But sometimes, love isn’t enough.
So now, after so many years and life transitions, we are each on our own for the very first time. I am I and he is he, there is no longer a we. My plans no longer will align or adjust to his and vice versa, and if our paths ever cross again then maybe — just maybe, that love will be enough for something new.
Until then, there is only pain and healing. Suffering and recovering. Deep breaths and patience. Tears and half smiles. “I’m OKs” and “Yeah, I’m fines.” But each day is a new beginning and I remain hopeful.
It’s only been a month and I’ve already learned so much. Everything I’ve learned, I wish I could show him, I wish I could share with him, but that’s no longer up to me. I had my chance. He’s been my best friend for so long, I guess I got caught up in the romantic fantasy of what a relationship should be instead of strengthening a good partnership I already had. I know that now, and I can only get better, for myself.
Live and learn.
Overall I know that I am lucky because I got to experience a love so deep, fun and crazy, and for that I am always grateful.
Inhale love and exhale hate. Say yes, and jump. Cheers to new beginnings.