(A conversation between my heart and I.)
Heart: Well, you got what you wanted girl!
You got the break you wanted.
He said goodbye.
Me: Well, I wanted a break, not a breakup.
I admit I feel relieved and hurt all at once.
I’m celebrating because I feel like a boulder has been taken off my shoulders, but I cry because I lost my love.
What is this?
Heart: This is the removal of the fairy tale of relationships.
This is raw.
This is messy.
This is filled with emotion.
This triggers the deepest part of you.
You used to say this guilt-filled tearful prayer every single day, “Lord, I could really use some time out from this relationship.
I need time to myself – to find my feet again.
This love is heavy.
He is heavy.
I’m struggling to carry it all.
(Triggered. The tears stream down).
I’ve lost myself.
I’ve bent myself into a different shape.
Break a knee. Dislodge a joint. Flex.
I’ve crawled on egg-shells, afraid to stand and walk on my own two feet.
I’ve spoken less, held back more.
Edit, edit, edit.
Bleep! Can’t say that.
All to live up to the expectation of being his perfection, his messiah
Because if I don’t, he’ll leave.
Is that the worst that could happen?
Right now, yes.
My heart made a home.
To let it go lacerates me.
But I can’t do this.
Me: I’m mad at myself for doing this to me.
I’m mad at myself for not knowing better.
I’m mad at myself for letting him in.
I’m mad at myself for trusting wholeheartedly, believing there’s no need to tie my camel.
I should have, but I thought love and trust were enough.
Alas, I wipe my tears and celebrate the do-over, the pressing of the reset button, the vital lessons learned.
Lesson 1: I’m human.
My life matters.
Lesson 2: If it drowns you, overlooks you, takes from your core without giving back half as much and makes you wonder who you are and what you’re doing this for, then it is not love.
I hear you dear heart.
I acknowledge that a rip current has swept me into the middle of the cold Atlantic
I’m choosing to stay calm and float
And once I get back to shore, I’m choosing to celebrate the do-over.
The icy water stings my skin right now, but I’ll live.
I’ll live well.
*image from Pexels.