I’m having a hard time. It’s difficult for me to be alone right now. It’s been five months I’ve lived without you and for some reason, my heart still wants to travel to meet yours. I ache. I hurt. I’m tired.
I’m grieving the loss of you. There are a million and one reasons why it was “good” that we broke up and why it’s “better” now, and that I shouldn’t feel sad because now I’m happy and I don’t have an angry, oppressive, depressed person screaming at me every single day.
Yeah, I get that. I’m grateful I’ve been able to move forward with my life and am pursuing my writing ambitions, doing my yoga thing, and living in a generally much more peaceful and happy state. It was a necessary step in my personal growth and healing. I have a lot of self-loving to do and a lot more healing to dive into.
But healing can hurt. Healing can be messy. Grief is an indescribable, all-consuming feeling that can pop up at any moment. I’m grateful I learned that it’s okay and normal to experience grief from the loss of a relationship and not just from a death. Losing a loved one to death is horrible and I’m not diminishing that loss.
But I’m grieving too. No matter how many times I’m told I “shouldn’t” because it’s “better” doesn’t fucking heal my pain from this loss.
It still hurts. It hurts every day. My heart, my body, and my soul ache in the absence of someone who has seen me at my worst, cheered me on through my best, and loved me through all of it. He was my friend, my lover, my confidante, a step-dad to my children. He helped me feel a little less alone in the world. There were problems, yes, and he has a lot of his own healing to do. Our break-up was mutual and it was necessary for both of us.
But after all the moving of boxes and furniture, separating of bills, decision making, and dividing up of stuff accumulated from over six years together, our lives may be separate, but feelings and memories still unite us. Stings of remembrance hit me every day in unexpected ways. However beneficial and necessary the separation, the emptiness and absence still leave an unattended void in my heart and in my life.
These intense feelings beg for answers – Will I be able to love someone again? Will I be able to share my life with someone so intimately again? How can I arrive at the place where my memories aren’t charged with emotion? What the fuck do I do with this grief?
But no answers come. Emotions flow like water. Most of the time, I feel okay. A lot of the time, I feel happy. Occasionally, I feel the heavy sadness cover me and I am not strong enough to lift it.
So I cry. And cry. And write. What else can I do?