I did not want that. I was sure of it.
That absolute certainty is always my initial phase post-breakup. Maybe it’s shock. Maybe it’s because I haven’t yet had time to process what it all means just yet. Maybe it’s because reconciling two completely parallel realities—how we were supposed to head out of town that weekend and instead I was looking at someone I didn’t know that was telling me things I couldn’t understand—takes time. Maybe it’s a little bit of both. But that’s always my first thought with bad breakups. That I don’t deserve this. And even more—I don’t want it.
And you know, maybe that’s just life being kind initially—because it knows full well the next morning it’s going to sting in a way none of us are ever prepared for. But that’s what happens. After I go to sleep that first night—and by sleep, I mean after I toss and turn and wake up to question whether this is really happening over and over—I wake up to phase two. And phase two is the complete polar opposite of I don’t deserve this. Phase two is the maybe it was all my fault place. The one where strength is completely gone. Logic and reason are completely gone. And now, the job of healing becomes piecing together what it means to be in this new world where you are—without that person. And I’m not sure why, but this is usually the time we blame ourselves for some, or all, of what happened.
But we’ll get to that.
Look, I’ve already broken this news to you, but—when your heart is hurting, your mind is not your friend. I’m sorry for that. But—it’s just one of those unfair little yin and yang conundrums of this crazy old world. While your mind struggles to understand, it’s going to seek answers to questions that might not actually have answers. Or at least not easy ones. And in that lack of clarity, it is going latch on to whatever information it can find, and try to construct a story to tell you. Even if what it knows—isn’t—enough to build the story.
You understand that, right?
For me, I had actually started to convince myself that asking him several times (like, literally, three) over the course of a week what was wrong was enough to end the whole relationship. I mean, maybe he got frustrated with my questions. Maybe I was being too sensitive. Maybe there actually wasn’t anything wrong and I did this—forcing him to talk about something that wasn’t real or he wasn’t ready for and it was just—too much.
No. I’m just going to tell you (and remind me) right now—that is not a possible story.
You know what is a possible story? That me asking him those things could have frustrated him. That he might not have liked them. Sure. But again, we are all adults here. And he had the opportunity to communicate to me what he needed, so I could change how I was responding to the situation.
And he didn’t. So I couldn’t. And it broke.
The nuances of how we process these things in our lives that don’t go quite as planned are pretty complicated. They just are. And maybe it’s because we are complicated. And while we constantly bombard ourselves with questions and blame—especially in hindsight—I need you to remember one really important thing here. Communication is always a choice. It’s where we make and break just about everything in love. And while I’m sure, like in all relationships, there is shared blame somewhere—I am just not going to take the blame for asking for more information when things felt wrong to me. Someone told me this morning that the only time people get irritated with those types of questions is when something really is wrong and they just aren’t ready to talk about it yet. That no one actually gets irritated with someone for asking if everything is ok out of genuine concern.
Well. That’s telling, isn’t it?
When we get to the end of a relationship, whether it ends up being mutual or completely one-sided—truth, I’m afraid, is not often the prevalent force. I mean, we all hope that truth is there, somewhere, but the truth is, there are way too many emotions and hurt and other motivations that drive the interactions that happen at the end. And so, naturally, things tend to get muddy. And confusing. And when we’re in that place, we’re vulnerable—and acting more in survival mode than building mode. Which means, we aren’t often getting answers. We’re just getting words.
So—I know this will be hard. But try your best not to overanalyze the words that came right at the end. They aren’t the ones that get to tell the whole story—and they definitely don’t get to retell the whole story. I mean, sure—you’re going to question whether everything that came before the hurt was actually real. You’re going to question whether they actually ever really loved you. You’re going to question how they could possibly walk away after all you’ve been through. After all the promises that were made.
And that’s all normal, love. Completely normal.
Just do me a favor and keep in mind that endings are always confusing. And hard. I mean it. Do your best not to reread their messages over and over and over. And don’t analyze the words they used. And compare them to what they used to say. Or how they used to say it. Things aren’t usually that transparent. Or that simple.
So I’m going to help you refocus. Because there is really only one truth here.
It ended.
And that means, for whatever reason, that just wasn’t your person.
Maybe, like I mentioned before, that status is a forever thing. Or maybe it’s a just a right now thing. But either way, you have got to figure out how to move forward right now without going back. And you can blame yourself for whatever you want. You can make it your fault or theirs. You can say it was about an event, or bad timing, or a misunderstanding. But it doesn’t much matter. None of that matters. Understanding what happened doesn’t change the outcome—and it also doesn’t change how you need to react to it. We are different people with each person we choose to share a portion of our lives with. Which means—all you can do is reflect on who you are. And what you choose to do with that.
**
We are different people
with each person we choose
to share a portion of our lives with.
So all you can ever do is reflect on who you are.
And what you choose to do with that.
A few more things, about this beginning part.
I know you want answers. I know you want them more than anything you’ve ever wanted. But—this just might not be the time for answers. Yeah, I know—that just plain old stinks. It does. But I promise you, love, the answers will come. And I also promise you that the answers you’re looking for are not hiding in the place (or with the person) the questions are coming from. So slow down a little. Try to calm your mind. We’re going to work through this. And you will come out the other side stronger.
Oh. And you will love again. You will.
Even though you’re hurting like crazy, I want you to keep that in your mind and in your heart. That you will love again. Whether it is them or someone you haven’t even met yet—your life will go on. Your heart will move on. And these experiences will all be just an essential part of who you are becoming. So until that all comes together for you, let’s just face one truth that is actually worth facing. A truth that will hopefully ground you during this early part—before you make choices that have the potential to hurt you even more.
They stay.
If it’s real—and it’s healthy—and it was what you both needed—they stay.
You can at least believe that, right?
**
The answers
you are looking for
are not hiding in the place,
or with the person,
the questions are coming from.