Note: I wrote this post a while ago and I’ve been debating whether to post it or not, but I have decided that I want to write things that matter and that means writing things that mean things to me and are hard to say. That being said, while I am still heartbroken, I am beginning to heal. These feelings are still pretty fresh and I can still remember them vividly reading this entry that I’m about to share. I ask only that anyone that comments (not that many of you read this) keep your comments kind – for my own sake and for the sake of others that might stumble upon this. Also, I have made a fairly long entry even longer with this, so if you don’t have time/don’t want to read it – that’s fine.
Right now, I feel like I’m on an isolated island by myself and I have no idea who I am. Because of that, I have no idea how to get back to who I was or the people that will help me realize who I am and how to get back to that person.
I am living with a broken heart.
And, if I’m being honest, I have been living with this broken heart for far longer than since I let him screw me up more than I already was. I have been living with this broken heart for longer than I can remember. I have been living with this broken heart for so long that it feels like it will always be a part of me and always has been a part of me. Let me rewind a little bit.
I think I’m an introvert. I love my friends and making new friends and spending time with my friends. I love game nights and getting together to watch movies or have dinner or spend time with people. But I also need to decompress, write, read, and spend time alone. Somewhere along the way, I think that my introvert-ness got mixed up with my loneliness and self-doubt, and I lost myself. And I haven’t found myself since and don’t know how to anymore.
Let me fast forward through a few years of my life: I grow up, I have friends, I read books, I am a “good girl” and do what I’m supposed to: I make good grades and do well in school, I attend church, I go to school for what I’ve always wanted to do, I become an RA and do well in college, I graduate with vigor and am ready to take on the world.
Never, in those years did I have a boyfriend, have a relationship with a boy, let myself become open to hurt. And it wasn’t because I didn’t have crushes (because I had quite a few unrequited loves in my day). I was just closed off. And I can’t even begin to talk about why that might be the case (because it is, obviously, much more complex than just getting my heart broken by a boy).
Fast forward to the past couple of years. I am still looking for a job in my chosen career field. I am still lost and heart broken. I am desperate for change and adventure and to get myself out into the world. I meet a boy. We begin seeing more and more of each other. We begin getting really entangled and sharing stories and moments and events. Things begin to go wrong. We fight, we yell, we cry. We break up. We get back together. We try to heal. We’re all wrong. We can’t let go.
All of a sudden, my heartbreak is fresher than it has ever been. I feel more hurt than I can ever remember feeling before. My broken heart – years of being broken, not just the boy that catapulted through my life – has taken its toll on my body and on my life. My heart yearns for something that it can’t name and it can’t ever remember being. My heart yearns to be whole again.
I was having a conversation with a friend of mine recently. We talk sporadically and every time I talk with her, I wish I kept in touch better and that I shared more of myself with her. We begin talking about the situation with the boy. She told me that 99% of guys are douchebags, but to hold out hope because the 1% is so worth it. She knows what she is talking about. She has been through more than I know and more than most know, just like all of us.
I told her that I was still holding out hope, but it was really hard to find it sometimes. And she understood.
And I am holding out hope.
I am holding out hope that I didn’t leave too many of the pieces of my heart with the boy that catapulted through my life.
I am holding out hope that I can change my mind without being judged or penalized.
I am holding out hope that there is still hope, hidden away somewhere.
Because much like 99% of guys are douchebags, 99% of our pain is just painful. But the 1% that is worth it, is so worth it. I’m still looking for that 1% – in guys and in life, but I know it’s out there waiting for me to find it.