Either it ends, or it doesn’t

“To Heal a Wound, You Need to Stop Touching It.”

I recently read a quote, and no words have ever hit me so hard. I am at a place where the simple sentence tears at my heart and shreds my mind. There has never been a more true statement;

“One of the hardest things you will ever have to do, my dear, is grieve the loss of a person who is still alive.”

There is no attribution, so I cannot thank/slap/yell at the person who wrote them.

Losing someone in death is something that is hard to do and accept, but I have found that it is easier to cope with, knowing that the person was taken from you, before or at their time to go. It is the circle of life, we are born, we live, hopefully a loving and adventurous life, and then we die. It is what we as people have come to know. Losing someone because of a break-up of any kind of relationship is much, much harder. It isn’t that the person was taken from you, it is a person choosing to walk away, ripping themselves from your heart, soul, and body.

It has been over a year since the initial break-up of my long term boyfriend and me. And although we did try to reconcile, it didn’t work. He is still alive, he is still accessible, he is still a breathing and living thing, he is no longer mine. No matter how tight we held on and how much we scratched and clawed to stay above water at the end, sometimes things do not work out.

He is gone in the worst way. He is gone from my bed in the morning, he is gone from my recent call list, he is gone from my present and future, yet he is still here living and moving on. I must let him go and grieve.

He gets to go on living, making new friends, and one day loving again. I get to go on living, making new friends, and one day loving again. But the idea that he is still here and I cannot reach him is harder to accept than the passing of a loved one. With death, there is hardly ever a choice. With the end of relationships, there are always too many choices. I believe I chose right when I ended it the second time. So tonight when he told me he had gone on a couple dates with a girl, why did I get the overwhelming need to vomit/cry/yell and even slap him? And why did I instead plaster a smile on my face pretending it was alright?

I was so attached. To everything about him. I believed that we were it, but then we weren’t. I just had never realized what it would feel like losing him, over and over and over again.

We are always taught to be happy for the people we love when things are going well in their life, but I am selfish and unfair. I want him to be miserable, I NEED him to be miserable. I want and need to be the first one to heal. I had little control over the relationship, bending over backward to make sure he got what he needed and wanted, so when I finally took back my life and relationship and made the decision to end things, I expected that I would be okay first. But he is. Or at least it appears that way. He has won, again.

And I am still mad. As much as I want to be friends (which probably won’t happen) I cannot stop being mad at him. For every little thing he did that drove us apart during our last eight months. I am so mad, raging with anger. I want to forgive and forget, but when I finally feel like I have, something reminds me of what has come to pass, and my fists clench in anger, my jaw tightens in rage, and my throat constricts with all the words I want to say but haven’t.

When you love someone and they love you, shouldn’t that be enough? He knows every inch of me, which buttons to push to make me mad, which jokes to say to tease me, what gets me hot and bothered. And now, with his departure, I must grieve his touches, laugh, smile, and those eyes that seem to see more than my physical form.

As I write this, some words typed with shaking fingers, some typed so forcefully I am surprised the keyboard isn’t dented, I can feel some weight melt off me; like typing the way I feel is curing me. With every word and sentence I am becoming lighter and free. And with all that’s said and done, I am in no shape or mind space to move on, but I am ready to begin to think about it.

It ends or it doesn’t, and it has ended.

So I say goodbye, and I begin this new phase in my life- I would say a new chapter but I believe it is an entirely new book. I will keep my chin held high, my shoulders back, try to ignore the pit in my stomach, and wear my heart on my sleeve, because the only cure for heartbreak is to love, and to love again.

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