I started this blog post much differently than the final direction it took now.  But then it happened.

I lost the love of my life.

Mind you, I never thought I’d have to say that aloud.  A shy, nerdy girl, meeting the dreamiest boy with the big juicy smile and honey-colored eyes that could melt you every. single. time.  It was right out of one of those corny romance novels (of which I love!)  Almost 7 years of happiness, and in a matter weeks, everything was wrecked.  If there was ever a more beautiful fairytale of love, dedication, and commitment, then this one was my favorite.

And it came crashing down.

Two days after our breakup, I had coffee with a friend.  I was hoping to avoid the whole, “the-love-of-my-life-broke-up-with-me-because-I’m-not-enough” conversation, but, inevitably, it wound up there, waterworks and all.  I mentioned to her that I find myself asking, “What did I do wrong?”  “Was it that I changed?”  “Was it that I made all these mistakes?”  “What did *I* do or not do?”  Because clearly, it’s always our fault.

FALACY.

Why is it so easy to blame ourselves?   I’m not saying we should blame them, or that at times, it isn’t our faults.  Not at all.  At times, it might be both parties’ faults, or none.  Sometimes love just dies (which I suspect is the case in my dead relationship).  But why?  Why is it so easy to point fingers at ourselves?  To destroy our self-esteem even further than society pushes us to do so already.  I look in the mirror, and the first thing I do is pick myself apart.  I think, “He must not have liked my nose, my frown lines, my pale color, maybe I was too mushy.”  My theory is because we are emotional beings (Oh goodness! Do I know that better than most!).  We mark our failures as self-criticism.  Now how f*cked up is that?  Love just does not work out sometimes.  Is that my fault?  Heck no.

And yet, here I am contemplating whether he’s thinking about me.  I feel like I was not enough for him.  But why do I think that’s a bad thing?  It’s not.  I was not enough for him?  No.  I was not enough of a lesser person he wanted me to be.  That’s the only way I wasn’t enough.

Now I actually have to try and believe it.

A work in progress, but progress nonetheless.

I’m fighting the urge to run back into his arms.  To text him.  To replay our conversations.  To get lost in his beautiful smile.  To tell him that even though it hurts, I love him.  It’s a mess.  No, wait, I am.  Wouldn’t it be nice if there was a magical pill to avoid pain as such?

Where do I go from here?  I was hoping you’d know.  I’m open to exploring, to finding who I am without him, what I’ve postponed, let go for him.  I’m willing to move forward and not fall any further, to mend the broken pieces and make a beautiful mosaic masterpiece.  Cheers to 2017, everyone!  Let this “The End” mark the start of a wonderful, new “The Beginning.”

*Note: All posts tend not to be this blue, but bear with me, my life experiences will bleed into these posts…

How have you dealt with heartbreak?  What’s your story today?

Roxy

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