I’ve been writing a lot about having my heartbroken and it’s been an eye opening experience for me. Of course, anyone who went through two very hard, very meaningful heart brakes back to back is allowed some time to have the feels all over the place if it makes them happy.
To recap: (in the event you had a million other things to do without reading my emo blog – on that I say touché).
I spent the better half of a year falling helplessly in love with the most damaged man I have ever met (this of course is not true, I am the only girl lucky enough to experience this level of baggage twice… in one year… but I don’t know this at the time so…). It was a never ending cycle of push and pull and toxic co dependency and just a mess, a fucking hot mess. To give you an example of the level of hot mess this particular relationship was – I lost two friends over my insistence to continue seeing this guy who very literally ruined my life (with the help of myself because I’m 25 and like Jon Snow, know nothing). It was as dramatic a relationship as it gets and it wasn’t until I finally realized that he was never actually going to be in love with me that I pulled myself away from going back and that lead to….
Meeting a guy who wasn’t any of that. To no one’s surprise but myself I met someone that was better in every single way. He was kind and understanding and caring – I had basically hit the lotto as some kind of cosmic reward for having the life sucked out of me in the previous relationship. It was suppose to go slowly but I think both of us were so genuinely excited and happy with one another we ignored common sense and logical thinking. Do you know what happens when you jump into a relationship with someone? What happens is it burns so hot that if you’re not careful you will set everything a blaze. I was damaged, he was damaged, looking at all the facts now I might have been the only one who didn’t see how doomed it was.
And so I experienced it all over again. Less dramatically, sporadically, and crazily as the time before but with all the same pain and frustration and loss that had just recently been a staple in my life.
I would like to take this opportunity to say that I can put up with a lot. I recently had an interview process that asked me what I thought my two greatest weaknesses were (why do employers put this on there? My greatest weakness is that I’m unemployed, duh). I put down a surprisingly honest answer on the questionnaire but couldn’t help but think about what my real greatest weakness is – my real greatest weakness is that I can put up with an inordinate amount of bullshit. This, of course, is why I excel at customer service jobs and working with volunteers, so in some cases it works as my greatest advantage. In relationships however, you can only imagine what this looks like. After each break-up my friends would look at me and wonder why I was crying before saying, “he’s an asshole”, a phrase my friends repeat to me so often I’m starting to be concerned that I hate myself.
My ability to put up with bullshit means that even after being treated pretty horribly and putting in commitment and caring into relationships with men who seem to want to run from those things, I kept caring about them! I should say that while these break up’s do have similarities they differ in important ways due to the nature of each relationship. Which is why there are different reasons I couldn’t let go of them. I couldn’t let go of one because it was all I knew, I had been yo-yo’d so much that I didn’t know how to let go and whenever I did I was so filled with hate and anger it permeated everything in and around me. With the other I couldn’t let go because I kept thinking I was in a romantic comedy and any moment he’d realize I was the one for him and a big romantic gesture would ensue (it’s obvious to me now that I watch too much Netflix). I held onto these relationships and wondered why I wasn’t moving on. I held onto these relationships and I couldn’t help but realize time was not healing me. I kept pushing it off further and further, “after Thanksgiving”, “after Christmas”, “after the new year”. Yes, after the New Year I would never talk to either one of them again. Ever.
And then I woke up this morning and I realized that I had to let go. As much as I wanted at least one of these guys to stay in my life, he didn’t want me in his. I was waiting, again, for something that would never happen. And so I sent one last text message (because I’m too much of an emotional person to not do this even though my favorite quote is “the thing is not the thing, the doing of the thing is the thing.”) and I cried for about an hour and then I started writing.
Letting go is hard. It’s harder even than the break-up’s themselves. Letting go of all the good and the bad memories, the feelings, the chemistry – letting go of something you once thought was so real you couldn’t imagine anything else is the most daunting thing I have ever done. It’s easy to let go of the people you don’t love anymore (I shouldn’t say easy I should say in my experience it is easier) but the people you do… well that’s easier said than done.
What I realized is that I was waiting for things that would never come. Holding on was only making it harder for me in the end. It kept me open, it kept me hoping, it kept me glued to my seat desperately wanting coach to put me back in the game. No where in my mind did I think I should just take off my uniform, throw down my jacket and fucking bail.
And then… I did. I blocked Facebooks, and deleted numbers and erased any and history of either of them. I sent one last text to one of them and I let go. If either of them wanted to talk to me they know where I live but it wouldn’t matter, I lost hope in apologies and grand sweeping romantic gestures a long time ago. It’s only now that I realize losing hope isn’t the same as saying goodbye and saying goodbye is the last step in letting go.