Content Warning: processing my feelings
I'm more myself than I've been in years, possibly my entire adult life. It's amazing, and terrifying. It's something I don't want to let fade, but know it'll inevitably shift. The closest thing I have to holding it for eternity is writing it all down. All the change, all the newness, all the growth, all the feels. All of it, everything that feels like "me." That way, when I lose site of it, I can look back, either realigning myself to this point, or realizing I've outgrown this version of me into an even more authentic version, which could not yet be imagined.
Except, to write it all down means to touch on some touchy subjects (ironic, eh, that "touchy" subjects are actually the ones we are least likely to touch? Phrases are weird.) I don't necessarily have an issue doing this, but I have to admit that the more times I experience deep or unexpected pain, the less inclined I am to visit it, at least intellectually. I think a lot of people tend to "intellectualize" their suffering, and view it only from their heads. I'm the opposite. I tend to view my pain only from my heart, and I give very little merit to my head. This heart-forward approach creates nostalgia and grief with vibrant shades of blue, but it does nothing for survey or retrospect. It makes it nearly impossible to "make sense" of my pain when I can never quite "get over" it.
By the grace of God, I've been able to strike a balance recently. Playing the chords of nostalgia and grief alongside the harmony of retrospect and review. My heart feels the heaviness and lightness of the song. My head feels the responsibility and freedom of the song. And I, like I said, feel the sincerity of it.
I actually remember the first day I felt this swell of hope, this hope that I wasn't lost inside myself. It was the day after the most difficult choice I ever made, the most difficult conversation I've ever had. It was the day after I broke up with the person I thought I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with.
(*disclaimer) I've held off mentioning my breakup in previous posts for several reasons. For one, I needed my own time and space to let it affect me personally. Meaning, it wasn't an experience that demanded display so much as it demanded presence (like the difference between taking a picture of your food for social media vs just eating it). For two, it felt too raw and fresh to dissect or analyze, much less use as wet paint on the canvas of a blog. When my relationship ended, I was devastated. It didn't feel right to paint with blood or tears, so I needed to let things feel less "alive" before dipping my pen or paintbrush in, if that makes sense. For three, I refuse to be mean-spirited, and I didn't want whatever way I talked about it to ooze hurt or disdain or any other transient emotion that belongs to the grieving process (and doesn't belong on a public forum). I'm not trying to bash myself or my ex. I'm not trying to answer questions, gossip, or make myself or anyone "feel better" (or worse). I'm not trying to hurt my ex, "win" the breakup, or "tell all." I don't think those are good reasons to share a story, and they end up putting shame on both you and the other person. I'm not about that. At all. I think that's important to say because even though it didn't work out between us, I genuinely hold respect for him as a person.
It's hard to believe, really. I've never been through a breakup before. It's all new to me, this island of both self-doubt and self-discovery. It's crazy to me when I realize breakups are basically a universal human experience. Like grief, or birth, or sickness, or REM... It's hard to find a human who hasn't experienced it. I belonged to that rare tribe until a few months ago. Part of me truly believed I would be among the few who marry the first person they date; not out of settling or fear or pressure, but because it was a good fit. I wouldn't say I "like it better" this way (the break up way) but I wholly appreciate it, and have very little (if any) resentment toward it. I feel almost like it was a rite of passage. It has brought me closer to people, and to myself even. Meaning, I am more your friend, and more myself, than I was before. (I know, I already said that, but it truly baffles me, so I guess I keep saying it, like "pinch me" or whatever).
Aside from being a COMPLETE gift from God, I think this growth is widely due to one truth in particular: It's a spiritual experience to connect, and likewise to disconnect.
Do you find it odd, how you can go from the intertwined togetherness of a relationship to the "no network connection" chasm in a matter of hours? Like, yeah yeah, you can still technically contact them if you want, but that's contact, not connection. Connection is gone. Shattered. Like dropping your iPhone... it was capable of network connection a second ago, but it definitely can't now... and it's not fun to experience.
Even if you both saw it coming or talked about it before, I don't think you can actually prepare yourself for the climate shift of breaking up. It's like going from 75 degrees to -30 with a wind chill. To be fair, I experience my emotions quite viscerally so I can only speak for myself, but there's no emotional parka I know of that can protect a heart from that kind of storm. Just think, this is my analogy for a mutual and mature breakup. I can't even imagine how it would feel with drama, turbulence, name-calling, emotional manipulation, or dissension between partners (well, I'm not sure I can really say any conversation is void of emotional manipulation, let alone my own... it kind of runs in our blood as humans, but that's beside the point). Anyway, I wouldn't wish a messy breakup on my worst enemy. I'm gonna say it again, isn't it insane how common these experiences are though? We probably all have a breakup story, and our own analogies to describe it. Basically universal. I'm sorry for the human race. We are all terrible at connecting and loving, and receiving connection and love, and changing, and gosh so many things, but we're in this together!
I'm learning a lot lately about trust, about surrender. About surrender that doesn't compromise your human dignity or worth. About trust that actually empowers you in knowing how deeply you're known and loved by God. Life will always turn out to be a series of good things happening to you, that somehow become bad things happening to you, that somehow become good things happening to you again.
You know what's a recipe for success? Going steady with your best friend. It's one of the greatest gifts life can give you, until it's not. It's heart-wrenching (if I give too much thought to it) the 180 degree turn from "best thing that's ever happened to me" to, well, the opposite. It's like having all the ingredients for these award winning cookies, but they somehow didn't bake right even though you tried to follow the directions. It's just how it goes sometimes... and please, don't stop making cookies... and don't stop seeking love, unless you want to. But, let it be up to you, not up to how your last batch turned out. You have to risk, you have to. That's the only way you have a chance at it if you want it. Turns out, the risk isn't so much in the actions taken to get close to something great, but in the wounding which occurs when a great gain turns into a great loss. A great gain can't just be a mediocre loss. Goodbyes hurt in direct correlation with how much you loved and valued the other person (and felt loved and valued by them). Just a humble girl's opinion.
And of course there's the dreaded "no-man's land" of the post breakup great divide: where you're torn between complete confidence in the "meant-to-be-ness" of the breakup and the complete doubt of it at the same time. I made my home here for awhile; the "unpacked bags" kind of home, here. I got real comfortable. This was an important part of the journey for me, the journey of asking questions, the journey that never ends. I should have expected this, really. I'm the type of person that will ask, and ask, and ask. I'm a seeker with a desire to find perfect solutions, matched only by my fervor to continue exploring. It's a complicated combination. to be sure!
It seems I'm always asking questions about something in my head, and the process never ends. Except, I've realized it does kind of end. It ends when you realize the answer doesn't really matter as much as resting in reality does. My confidence or doubt in my decisions on any given day could serve as my slave-drivers if I fall for the lie that they hold answers for me, and that those answers are my life or death. Instead, maybe my doubt is just my doubt. And my confidence is just my confidence. They aren't riddles for me to solve.
And I don't need the answers. I think. For me, the extensive "search parties" I've hosted in the name of finding some lost or kidnapped answers serves as a sort of pain killer, comforting me in the moments I most need it. I'm thankful for the medicinal effects of this relentless searching and questioning, but I'm also thankful I've packed my bags and no longer live there. I don't have the answers to my questions, but I don't need them anymore.
Or, maybe, it's less about "I don't need those answers" and more about "I don't have those questions anymore." I'm asking new questions. I'm more intrigued by the things present in my life than absent from it.
Moving on, can we talk for a second about the awkwardness of encountering your ex "in real life." It's like after you break up your mind treats them like they moved to a different planet and when you see them you're like "Oh, heyyyyy, I didn't know you were visiting earth!" I know some people don't experience the awkwardness so profoundly, and can I just say how much I want to be you when I grow up. I mean, yeesh, do I get real awkward, real quick (in life in general, to be fair, but definitely in relation to this topic). Plus, it gets better, when I'm trying to be non-confrontational and light, I end up channeling my inner garden fairy, apparently. I've been told I "skip" instead of walking! It's subconscious, and I'm only occasionally aware of it in the moment. But, you can imagine how this quirk has gone down in the "meet your ex for the first time" scenario. It's ok, you can laugh, I smile every time I think about it, actually! Can't help it, not gonna. Not because I particularly "like" that quirk, but because it's not hurting anyone, and it's clearly part of my playful side coming out for some reason. I deeply love that Jesus made me with a playful and creative personality, so I'm just gonna go ahead and say, "thank You" for that "flaw" and smile at the funny stories it manifests.
For the record, I'm a firm believer in the rule of 3 months when it comes to relationships. It's just a significant and telling fraction of time. Like, 3 months into dating feels like you can finally prove or disprove the veracity of the "yes," you gave the person when they asked, "do you want to date me?" And when you breakup, the same rule applies. Three months later, I think you can prove or disprove the "no" answer you gave, or at the least feel more sober in your head and heart about it, which provides a much needed greenhouse of clarity, hope, faith, and peace. That 3 months post breakup serum reminds you of your wholeness as a single person. You begin blossoming from the disempowered soil you rooted in, opening you're eyes to the sky, ready to receive both rain and sunshine because you know you're going to be ok.
And that's really all you can ask for, right? I'm ok, and I'm becoming more and more ok as time goes on. I'm not lacking. I'm not missing any puzzle pieces. Sure, being in a relationship is awesome. Being loved by someone is awesome. Having a partner in crime is awesome. Having a confidant and supporter by your side is awesome. But, it's not the "thing" that makes you. It's not. If you're not enough without it, you won't be enough even with it.
I'm not saying I never want to be in a relationship, but I am saying I'm enough without it.
--
Except, to write it all down means to touch on some touchy subjects (ironic, eh, that "touchy" subjects are actually the ones we are least likely to touch? Phrases are weird.) I don't necessarily have an issue doing this, but I have to admit that the more times I experience deep or unexpected pain, the less inclined I am to visit it, at least intellectually. I think a lot of people tend to "intellectualize" their suffering, and view it only from their heads. I'm the opposite. I tend to view my pain only from my heart, and I give very little merit to my head. This heart-forward approach creates nostalgia and grief with vibrant shades of blue, but it does nothing for survey or retrospect. It makes it nearly impossible to "make sense" of my pain when I can never quite "get over" it.
By the grace of God, I've been able to strike a balance recently. Playing the chords of nostalgia and grief alongside the harmony of retrospect and review. My heart feels the heaviness and lightness of the song. My head feels the responsibility and freedom of the song. And I, like I said, feel the sincerity of it.
I actually remember the first day I felt this swell of hope, this hope that I wasn't lost inside myself. It was the day after the most difficult choice I ever made, the most difficult conversation I've ever had. It was the day after I broke up with the person I thought I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with.
(*disclaimer) I've held off mentioning my breakup in previous posts for several reasons. For one, I needed my own time and space to let it affect me personally. Meaning, it wasn't an experience that demanded display so much as it demanded presence (like the difference between taking a picture of your food for social media vs just eating it). For two, it felt too raw and fresh to dissect or analyze, much less use as wet paint on the canvas of a blog. When my relationship ended, I was devastated. It didn't feel right to paint with blood or tears, so I needed to let things feel less "alive" before dipping my pen or paintbrush in, if that makes sense. For three, I refuse to be mean-spirited, and I didn't want whatever way I talked about it to ooze hurt or disdain or any other transient emotion that belongs to the grieving process (and doesn't belong on a public forum). I'm not trying to bash myself or my ex. I'm not trying to answer questions, gossip, or make myself or anyone "feel better" (or worse). I'm not trying to hurt my ex, "win" the breakup, or "tell all." I don't think those are good reasons to share a story, and they end up putting shame on both you and the other person. I'm not about that. At all. I think that's important to say because even though it didn't work out between us, I genuinely hold respect for him as a person.
It's hard to believe, really. I've never been through a breakup before. It's all new to me, this island of both self-doubt and self-discovery. It's crazy to me when I realize breakups are basically a universal human experience. Like grief, or birth, or sickness, or REM... It's hard to find a human who hasn't experienced it. I belonged to that rare tribe until a few months ago. Part of me truly believed I would be among the few who marry the first person they date; not out of settling or fear or pressure, but because it was a good fit. I wouldn't say I "like it better" this way (the break up way) but I wholly appreciate it, and have very little (if any) resentment toward it. I feel almost like it was a rite of passage. It has brought me closer to people, and to myself even. Meaning, I am more your friend, and more myself, than I was before. (I know, I already said that, but it truly baffles me, so I guess I keep saying it, like "pinch me" or whatever).
Aside from being a COMPLETE gift from God, I think this growth is widely due to one truth in particular: It's a spiritual experience to connect, and likewise to disconnect.
Do you find it odd, how you can go from the intertwined togetherness of a relationship to the "no network connection" chasm in a matter of hours? Like, yeah yeah, you can still technically contact them if you want, but that's contact, not connection. Connection is gone. Shattered. Like dropping your iPhone... it was capable of network connection a second ago, but it definitely can't now... and it's not fun to experience.
Even if you both saw it coming or talked about it before, I don't think you can actually prepare yourself for the climate shift of breaking up. It's like going from 75 degrees to -30 with a wind chill. To be fair, I experience my emotions quite viscerally so I can only speak for myself, but there's no emotional parka I know of that can protect a heart from that kind of storm. Just think, this is my analogy for a mutual and mature breakup. I can't even imagine how it would feel with drama, turbulence, name-calling, emotional manipulation, or dissension between partners (well, I'm not sure I can really say any conversation is void of emotional manipulation, let alone my own... it kind of runs in our blood as humans, but that's beside the point). Anyway, I wouldn't wish a messy breakup on my worst enemy. I'm gonna say it again, isn't it insane how common these experiences are though? We probably all have a breakup story, and our own analogies to describe it. Basically universal. I'm sorry for the human race. We are all terrible at connecting and loving, and receiving connection and love, and changing, and gosh so many things, but we're in this together!
I'm learning a lot lately about trust, about surrender. About surrender that doesn't compromise your human dignity or worth. About trust that actually empowers you in knowing how deeply you're known and loved by God. Life will always turn out to be a series of good things happening to you, that somehow become bad things happening to you, that somehow become good things happening to you again.
You know what's a recipe for success? Going steady with your best friend. It's one of the greatest gifts life can give you, until it's not. It's heart-wrenching (if I give too much thought to it) the 180 degree turn from "best thing that's ever happened to me" to, well, the opposite. It's like having all the ingredients for these award winning cookies, but they somehow didn't bake right even though you tried to follow the directions. It's just how it goes sometimes... and please, don't stop making cookies... and don't stop seeking love, unless you want to. But, let it be up to you, not up to how your last batch turned out. You have to risk, you have to. That's the only way you have a chance at it if you want it. Turns out, the risk isn't so much in the actions taken to get close to something great, but in the wounding which occurs when a great gain turns into a great loss. A great gain can't just be a mediocre loss. Goodbyes hurt in direct correlation with how much you loved and valued the other person (and felt loved and valued by them). Just a humble girl's opinion.
And of course there's the dreaded "no-man's land" of the post breakup great divide: where you're torn between complete confidence in the "meant-to-be-ness" of the breakup and the complete doubt of it at the same time. I made my home here for awhile; the "unpacked bags" kind of home, here. I got real comfortable. This was an important part of the journey for me, the journey of asking questions, the journey that never ends. I should have expected this, really. I'm the type of person that will ask, and ask, and ask. I'm a seeker with a desire to find perfect solutions, matched only by my fervor to continue exploring. It's a complicated combination. to be sure!
It seems I'm always asking questions about something in my head, and the process never ends. Except, I've realized it does kind of end. It ends when you realize the answer doesn't really matter as much as resting in reality does. My confidence or doubt in my decisions on any given day could serve as my slave-drivers if I fall for the lie that they hold answers for me, and that those answers are my life or death. Instead, maybe my doubt is just my doubt. And my confidence is just my confidence. They aren't riddles for me to solve.
And I don't need the answers. I think. For me, the extensive "search parties" I've hosted in the name of finding some lost or kidnapped answers serves as a sort of pain killer, comforting me in the moments I most need it. I'm thankful for the medicinal effects of this relentless searching and questioning, but I'm also thankful I've packed my bags and no longer live there. I don't have the answers to my questions, but I don't need them anymore.
Or, maybe, it's less about "I don't need those answers" and more about "I don't have those questions anymore." I'm asking new questions. I'm more intrigued by the things present in my life than absent from it.
Moving on, can we talk for a second about the awkwardness of encountering your ex "in real life." It's like after you break up your mind treats them like they moved to a different planet and when you see them you're like "Oh, heyyyyy, I didn't know you were visiting earth!" I know some people don't experience the awkwardness so profoundly, and can I just say how much I want to be you when I grow up. I mean, yeesh, do I get real awkward, real quick (in life in general, to be fair, but definitely in relation to this topic). Plus, it gets better, when I'm trying to be non-confrontational and light, I end up channeling my inner garden fairy, apparently. I've been told I "skip" instead of walking! It's subconscious, and I'm only occasionally aware of it in the moment. But, you can imagine how this quirk has gone down in the "meet your ex for the first time" scenario. It's ok, you can laugh, I smile every time I think about it, actually! Can't help it, not gonna. Not because I particularly "like" that quirk, but because it's not hurting anyone, and it's clearly part of my playful side coming out for some reason. I deeply love that Jesus made me with a playful and creative personality, so I'm just gonna go ahead and say, "thank You" for that "flaw" and smile at the funny stories it manifests.
For the record, I'm a firm believer in the rule of 3 months when it comes to relationships. It's just a significant and telling fraction of time. Like, 3 months into dating feels like you can finally prove or disprove the veracity of the "yes," you gave the person when they asked, "do you want to date me?" And when you breakup, the same rule applies. Three months later, I think you can prove or disprove the "no" answer you gave, or at the least feel more sober in your head and heart about it, which provides a much needed greenhouse of clarity, hope, faith, and peace. That 3 months post breakup serum reminds you of your wholeness as a single person. You begin blossoming from the disempowered soil you rooted in, opening you're eyes to the sky, ready to receive both rain and sunshine because you know you're going to be ok.
And that's really all you can ask for, right? I'm ok, and I'm becoming more and more ok as time goes on. I'm not lacking. I'm not missing any puzzle pieces. Sure, being in a relationship is awesome. Being loved by someone is awesome. Having a partner in crime is awesome. Having a confidant and supporter by your side is awesome. But, it's not the "thing" that makes you. It's not. If you're not enough without it, you won't be enough even with it.
I'm not saying I never want to be in a relationship, but I am saying I'm enough without it.
--
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