I have debated back and forth about posting this for several days now. I don't want people to think I am airing my dirty laundry, but I also think that this would be a good thing for me. And maybe for women experiencing similar things.
I recently had a conversation with a new friend about men, heartbreak, and the pain that comes along with it. I had been thinking about writing this post for a while now, but our conversation spurred me along a little because I realized that the one thing everyone who is heartbroken has in common is this:
They all feel like they are the tragic exception. That no one has ever felt this way and come out alive. That their love was different, and no one can understand their suffering. They feel completely alone.
I've been there. Felt that. Gone numb. Cried about it.
Over the same man. TWICE. And guess what?
Over the same man. TWICE. And guess what?
I'm still living. Not just alive, but living.
It has taken me a little while to reach a point where I could actually sit down and write this. In fact, I think this is the perfect time. The wounds aren't fresh, but I can still feel them beneath the surface. I have moved on, but definitely have not forgotten. If you know me, you know I like self reflection, and I feel that now is a good time to reflect on this, one of the most enlightening, terrifying, testing, humiliating, and rewarding things I have ever experienced: falling in love with someone who wasn't "the one."
So, this one goes out to all the broken-hearted (is that a song? If not it should be). Buckle up, it's a long one. And when in doubt...I'm being facetious.
Dear Man Who Broke My Heart...Twice,
How are you doing? Actually you don't need to answer that. Because even though I un-friended you on Facebook like the completely mature adult I am (lol), I can still see what you are tagged in. And I'm not going to pretend that I don't still stalk you sometimes. It's a weird complex where if my day is too good, I need to make myself feel worse. I know that you didn't place as well as you wanted in that last fishing tournament. I also know that you don't fish as well in the Fall, so you'll pick yourself back up come spring time. I know that because I genuinely took interest in the things you love. Like bass fishing. I loved zooming across the lake in your brand new bass cat that daddy bought for you. I loved seeing beautiful new places and waking up before dawn to get out on the water. Mostly because I loved the way your eyes shined when you were reeling in anything over 5. Like the way they used to shine when you looked at me.
Thank you, by the way, for teaching me about bass fishing. I can now hold a conversation with attractive men about crank bates, brush piles, and football jigs. It helped me on my content exam, plus I can whip out that photo of me with the 7.6 pounder I caught on Lake Nac with you. Which I definitely have done. On multiple occasions.
Thank you for reinforcing my belief that when someone becomes overly accusatory about something toward their partner, it is because they are feeling guilty about that same thing. The next man that gets angry at me for checking my phone, or is hyper sensitive about my contact with other males? He won't last long. Being apathetic towards me? You fed me those lines about not knowing what to do with your life and I soaked it up like a love desperate sponge, holding you, continuing to love you, telling you that it would all be okay. Next time, tell her not to tag you in Facebook posts. I don't want to be with someone who doesn't think I'm the best thing that has ever happened to them.
Now I know it wasn't all bad. You were a hopeless romantic, just like me! You bought me flowers! And you drove to Nac to see me! And all of those meals you paid for and gas you spent almost make up for the fact that I now have a complex about my pants being too tight, my belly button ring looking like "metal lint" and my tattoos being trashy. Oh but thank God you told me you "overlooked the tattoos." I don't know if I could have ever afforded to get them removed. Remember when I drove on Christmas night to come see you, as a surprise, so you wouldn't be alone? I left my family at 6pm drove three hours and showed up at your door, dressed to the nines, present in hand. Or that time I had to tell all of my family that you had to work during the Lewis Christmas party, when really you just didn't want to come? After telling me for months that you would? Nothing says commitment like a family Christmas party...so it's best that you just avoid that all together, even if it does permanent damage to the girls' ability to trust. Okay okay, I'm getting off topic again. There were some good parts about our relationship.
You were an artist with words and I will never forget the feeling it gave me when you looked at me, said I was beautiful, and wanted me for the rest of your life. That feeling? It's incomparable to anything else in this world. I remember when I went to dinner with you and your coworkers. Everyone gave us compliments about being the best dressed couple, and the old lady hit on you all night. Then, afterwards, we got Starbucks and looked at Christmas lights. The simple joy of running into you unexpectedly on campus. The feeling of your hand in mine. After our first kiss, when I ran face first into my front door. Not being able to sleep because I was so excited to see you the next day. Goosebumps when you kissed me. Stolen glances across the room. Wanting to leave a party just so the two of us could be alone. I would kill to have those things back. Those were real.
But, so was the fact that you hated every single one of my friends. Except Sunshine. Because she had literally said 6 words to you in the span of a year. So were the texts. To your ex. Saying you loved her. So were the nights I spent crying in my shower because it was the only place my roommates couldn't hear me. So was the time you told me my cutoffs were about two sizes too small. So were the times that I would be dressed to go out, and you would tell me I looked great--but follow it with "But you already knew that." So were the times you looked at the make-up on my face and said "What is all of that shit?" Or when you said you resented me for being smart. And the time that was most real? When you told me the only reason I liked writing was because someone told me I was good at it. Yeah...you're right. And the only reason I didn't think the things you said were tearing me down? I just kept telling myself it was okay. You were just projecting your own insecurities on me. I was strong and confident, they weren't really getting to me or hurting me, and you didn't really want them to...did you?
I like to think that you didn't. I like to think that you think of me and regret your decision to walk away. In the words of T-Swift all you had to do was stay! I like to think that you are dumbfounded because for once, a girl that you broke down didn't stay in touch with you....begging for your attention. I like to think that you see me in front of you, in class, and wonder if I am really as happy as I appear to be. Rest assured, I'm not. But I am happy. I no longer have bad days, but I have bad moments. Like the Chris Young concert. When you showed up with her. Damn that was rough. But I reveled in the fact that I was the one in the pit, touching his hand, surrounded by people who love me, and held my hands when he played "Tomorrow." I like to think, that one day 6 years from now, we will run into each other at a cafe, both leading separate lives, and be able to catch up. I'd like to think that.
Please know, as therapeutic as this was, this letter was not meant as an attack on you. I believe in my heart that when you find the right woman, who maybe isn't quite so strong willed as I am, y'all will live happily ever after. This wasn't to only point out the things that were wrong about us. It was to remind myself that it's okay to miss you. It's okay to think of you. But it is not okay to forget the damage you caused me, for my own sake. And I know that every girl out there who has been broken like this wished she could send this letter. It's a small town, word might get back to you. But let's be honest, how much of this do people not already know? Don't think this was really about you. It was about the demons I have faced and am still facing with you. The demons that broken hearts everywhere have to face. Even you.
I guess it wasn't really no matter the storm, huh?
Elizabeth Lewis
P.S. I know she was there the night before. Be nicer to your roommate. And stop flirting with girls who are friends with me...they just come run and tell me!
How are you doing? Actually you don't need to answer that. Because even though I un-friended you on Facebook like the completely mature adult I am (lol), I can still see what you are tagged in. And I'm not going to pretend that I don't still stalk you sometimes. It's a weird complex where if my day is too good, I need to make myself feel worse. I know that you didn't place as well as you wanted in that last fishing tournament. I also know that you don't fish as well in the Fall, so you'll pick yourself back up come spring time. I know that because I genuinely took interest in the things you love. Like bass fishing. I loved zooming across the lake in your brand new bass cat that daddy bought for you. I loved seeing beautiful new places and waking up before dawn to get out on the water. Mostly because I loved the way your eyes shined when you were reeling in anything over 5. Like the way they used to shine when you looked at me.
Thank you, by the way, for teaching me about bass fishing. I can now hold a conversation with attractive men about crank bates, brush piles, and football jigs. It helped me on my content exam, plus I can whip out that photo of me with the 7.6 pounder I caught on Lake Nac with you. Which I definitely have done. On multiple occasions.
Thank you for reinforcing my belief that when someone becomes overly accusatory about something toward their partner, it is because they are feeling guilty about that same thing. The next man that gets angry at me for checking my phone, or is hyper sensitive about my contact with other males? He won't last long. Being apathetic towards me? You fed me those lines about not knowing what to do with your life and I soaked it up like a love desperate sponge, holding you, continuing to love you, telling you that it would all be okay. Next time, tell her not to tag you in Facebook posts. I don't want to be with someone who doesn't think I'm the best thing that has ever happened to them.
Now I know it wasn't all bad. You were a hopeless romantic, just like me! You bought me flowers! And you drove to Nac to see me! And all of those meals you paid for and gas you spent almost make up for the fact that I now have a complex about my pants being too tight, my belly button ring looking like "metal lint" and my tattoos being trashy. Oh but thank God you told me you "overlooked the tattoos." I don't know if I could have ever afforded to get them removed. Remember when I drove on Christmas night to come see you, as a surprise, so you wouldn't be alone? I left my family at 6pm drove three hours and showed up at your door, dressed to the nines, present in hand. Or that time I had to tell all of my family that you had to work during the Lewis Christmas party, when really you just didn't want to come? After telling me for months that you would? Nothing says commitment like a family Christmas party...so it's best that you just avoid that all together, even if it does permanent damage to the girls' ability to trust. Okay okay, I'm getting off topic again. There were some good parts about our relationship.
You were an artist with words and I will never forget the feeling it gave me when you looked at me, said I was beautiful, and wanted me for the rest of your life. That feeling? It's incomparable to anything else in this world. I remember when I went to dinner with you and your coworkers. Everyone gave us compliments about being the best dressed couple, and the old lady hit on you all night. Then, afterwards, we got Starbucks and looked at Christmas lights. The simple joy of running into you unexpectedly on campus. The feeling of your hand in mine. After our first kiss, when I ran face first into my front door. Not being able to sleep because I was so excited to see you the next day. Goosebumps when you kissed me. Stolen glances across the room. Wanting to leave a party just so the two of us could be alone. I would kill to have those things back. Those were real.
But, so was the fact that you hated every single one of my friends. Except Sunshine. Because she had literally said 6 words to you in the span of a year. So were the texts. To your ex. Saying you loved her. So were the nights I spent crying in my shower because it was the only place my roommates couldn't hear me. So was the time you told me my cutoffs were about two sizes too small. So were the times that I would be dressed to go out, and you would tell me I looked great--but follow it with "But you already knew that." So were the times you looked at the make-up on my face and said "What is all of that shit?" Or when you said you resented me for being smart. And the time that was most real? When you told me the only reason I liked writing was because someone told me I was good at it. Yeah...you're right. And the only reason I didn't think the things you said were tearing me down? I just kept telling myself it was okay. You were just projecting your own insecurities on me. I was strong and confident, they weren't really getting to me or hurting me, and you didn't really want them to...did you?
I like to think that you didn't. I like to think that you think of me and regret your decision to walk away. In the words of T-Swift all you had to do was stay! I like to think that you are dumbfounded because for once, a girl that you broke down didn't stay in touch with you....begging for your attention. I like to think that you see me in front of you, in class, and wonder if I am really as happy as I appear to be. Rest assured, I'm not. But I am happy. I no longer have bad days, but I have bad moments. Like the Chris Young concert. When you showed up with her. Damn that was rough. But I reveled in the fact that I was the one in the pit, touching his hand, surrounded by people who love me, and held my hands when he played "Tomorrow." I like to think, that one day 6 years from now, we will run into each other at a cafe, both leading separate lives, and be able to catch up. I'd like to think that.
Please know, as therapeutic as this was, this letter was not meant as an attack on you. I believe in my heart that when you find the right woman, who maybe isn't quite so strong willed as I am, y'all will live happily ever after. This wasn't to only point out the things that were wrong about us. It was to remind myself that it's okay to miss you. It's okay to think of you. But it is not okay to forget the damage you caused me, for my own sake. And I know that every girl out there who has been broken like this wished she could send this letter. It's a small town, word might get back to you. But let's be honest, how much of this do people not already know? Don't think this was really about you. It was about the demons I have faced and am still facing with you. The demons that broken hearts everywhere have to face. Even you.
I guess it wasn't really no matter the storm, huh?
Elizabeth Lewis
P.S. I know she was there the night before. Be nicer to your roommate. And stop flirting with girls who are friends with me...they just come run and tell me!
Man...that was heavier than I expected it to be! It was never my intention for this letter to be bashing my ex. I really wanted to write this to prove to y'all, and maybe even still to myself, that heartbreak works on its own time. It comes in stages. I'm out of the "stomach hurts when I see you" phase, but am not to the "wishing you all the best" phase. Obviously. I didn't feel the need to be vague, because if you know me, you know exactly who I'm talking about anyway! Might as well just let it all out. I also wanted to showcase the fact that abuse isn't always obvious. I'm not trying to say that my relationship was abusive. That's not it at all. But some of those backhanded compliments? The projecting of his own fears onto me? They did a number on my confidence.
I also don't think that I was innocent in the dramatic explosion that was the end of our relationship. I know I am hard headed. I know I was new to the whole "love" thing. But I also woke up every day wondering how to make him happy. How to make him love me like I loved him. Agape--self sacrificial love. That kind of love. I think somewhere he felt those things too. Or maybe he just thought he should. He did teach me how to love though--I never knew a heart could be filled with so much feeling for another person.
It's okay to be mad, or spiteful, or upset, or depressed, but don't ever think that you have to go through it alone. I made that mistake the first time around and made some very poor decisions. Needing alone time and thinking you have to suffer alone are two very different things.
I would say don't blame yourself, but I know you're going to. But don't forget to blame them too. One day you'll wake up and feel like it was mostly their fault. And then one day you'll wake up and know that you don't ever want to get back together with them (like ever! Sorry I couldn't resist). And one day it won't hurt to say their name, or run into them. And hopefully, one day soon, we won't even think of them.
-L
No comments:
Post a Comment