I’m a happy person… and sometimes I can even be comical. My life is one constant happening after another and I can promise you it’s one fairly entertaining ride. But, I’ve put off a lot of subjects that I’ve wanted to write about because I wasn’t sure I could make them witty, I was scared I’d be sharing too much of myself, I was scared who would read it, I was scared of being stupid… With that said, I’m throwing caution to the wind and having a go at it.
Heartbreak. I have so many friends that couldn’t tell you what heartbreak feels like or what it’s like to feel as if world is collapsing around you. They could tell you what its like to make a drunken mistake, to have a random Sunday adventure, to not have a guy call after a few dates, but not many of them could legitimately tell you what it is like to have their heart broken — shattered. And I’m envious. I feel like I can write about this now, I can write about what it was like and how it affects you because it happened to me. It happened to me several years ago, so it’s no longer unbearably raw – I can write about it with a sane perspective. Well, as sane as I’m ever going to get.
We all know the story, it’s nothing new — nothing that hasn’t happened before. My story was unique to me, it happened to me, but means, most likely, absolutely nothing to you. It went a little something like this…
Girl meets boy. Girl and Boy get together. Girl and Boy fall in love. Girl and Boy are together for 3 years. Boy leaves Girl.
For me, heart break was for the movies, something dramatic and broken that wouldn’t and couldn’t happen to me. It was for everyone else. Having someone you’ve grown to love, someone you call your best friend look you in the eyes and say they don’t love you anymore and walk away is a feeling I’m not sure I’ll ever forget. I have and will continue, of course, to have that feeling numbed with time… but having someone deem me not worth loving anymore, of not wanting or needing me in their life, not worth their effort, has forever torn a little piece of me away. A piece I know I can’t get back.
As my heart broke I knew I had become the broken record to a lot of my, never been through it, happy friends and even family. I knew every time I seemed down, tear-stained or couldn’t quite pull together the fake smile they were all thinking “Why can’t she get over it?”, ”What’s the big deal?”, “This has gone on way too long…”, ”If I have to hear about how happy they used to be I’m going to kill myself”.
I’m assuming its true for most everyone. All of those people in your life don’t understand and most of them, to this day, can’t say they do. I always felt bad for inflicting my pain on them, I felt bad for making them listen… worried I might be using up their sympathy and wondered if they’d be there again if I needed them. And that weighed on me even more.
There are days, now, when I replay it all in my head. I watch it all happen and it hurts, to this day, but it’s bearable. I learned and will forever be grateful for the lessons I may have otherwise surpassed. But that doesn’t mean I’m grateful for the suffering and self-doubt. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. You torture yourself, it’s all in the cycle of events.
A lot of self blame…
What did I do? Maybe if I lost a few pounds? Am I not worth keeping in your life? What’s wrong with me?
A lot of anger…
Why did I let this happen. What if I had done this instead? Why can’t I get anything right?
A lot of lonely nights…
Choking back tears. I miss him. I’m alone — alone. It’s gone, and it’s not coming back.
But in the end you grow up, you put on your big girl panties and get on with life. And day by day it all gets a little easier.
Over the past few months I’ve watched friends suffer and it hurts me to watch them. I want to grab them, hug them and tell them that all the doubts and fears they are trying to push away are unfounded. Tell them they are worthy, that they deserve it all, that I’ll give them a cookie and it will be ok. But I can’t. I can listen. I can offer what little advice I have. I can be there, and that’s all.
I know from here on out we’ll share something that not everyone can. We’ll know what it was like, we’ll share the experience and we’ll be that much closer because of it. We won’t be free of heartbreak or suffering because life is full of it. I may watch them hurt and they’ll watch me suffer. And it’s going to be hard. Maybe harder each time? I don’t know.
But I do know it won’t be glossy. Heartbreak isn’t majestic and it isn’t glamorous. It’s painful. It’s full of mascara and tear-stained pillows, swollen cheeks, swaying between loss of appetite and emotional eating, sad songs, replaying of every painful moment… over and over, trying desperately to cling to a shred of unrealistic hope, purging and trying to hold on all at the same time. It’s lonely.
*”After a journey” photo by eflon.
