It Is Terrifying...
I have been reading the Breakups thread on Reddit tonight, and the question got me. It almost put me in my fucking feels.
Y’all know I’m all up in some bad relationships. It’s where I go to spread the love, and tell women there is a better way. But, here’s something I never told you: I’m also on the Breakups thread.
Before you go to groaning and clutching your pearls at me, listen to the rationale. At one point in time, it really did help me to see I wasn’t the only one sitting around like they had their heart cut right out of their chest. There are so many others. And some of them, so much worse than I as far as the healing process.
I’m lucky. I had nothing to argue about, nothing to discuss. It was just over. He decided we were through, and so we were.
Tonight, the question on the Breakups thread is “With all of the ‘It’s been 2.5 years, when will I be over this?’ posts, do you worry you’ll never be okay?
And so I thought on it for longer than I should have. And I revisited things I have zero business ever remembering. It would be the equivalent of scrolling back a year in my Google Drive. I know what’s hiding there, and it’s enough to completely fuck me up, so I don’t go there.
I know better. I know how badly it would derail my path to being healed.
The people in the discussion are mostly new to the breakup, and they’re in a fucking tizzy, much like breakups will do to you. Do y’all remember the podcast I did 2 weeks into Andy leaving me? Motherfucker, that hurt.
I can’t help but feel bad for these folk, so freshly draped in the pain of being left. I understand the way it feels like a hole has been punched through your chest. However, I can’t talk about those feelings, because then I will again feel those feelings, and another time might kill me.
Another time might honestly steal the breath from my lungs.
So I made the only sensible decision a Bitchface could make. I left the Breakups community. I left it, and I didn’t even wave good bye on the way out.
Funny, it was the same way I was left. Abruptly, and without warning.
I think it was a good choice. Holding on to the memories, keeping the feelings so close to the surface, it’s not good for me. It was a good plan, keep it fresh so I don’t even think about fucking around and doing that again. But, that plan has long since been executed.
Now it’s time to stop thinking of myself as part of a breakup. I’m not. I’m simply fucking rad and single, and no breakup had shit to do with that.
Sometimes, we hold onto feelings as a preventative measure, but we don’t realize that those very same measures are the kindling that keeps the pain ignited. I don’t want that fire in my chest anymore.
I don’t even want to fucking smell the smoke any longer. I want to stop doing this dance with my heartache, and let that bitch sit down for good.
I can cut a rug alone, thanks. Appreciate the shoulder during the slow dance, but I gotta get that pep right up in the step, again.
I know this was a good way of telling my heart, *points well manicured index finger at the guilty party*, get yourself together, dude. You’re a completely different woman today. A year ago is exactly that, so let it ride. You’re better for it. You know better now.
I don’t want to be one of those people at 2.5 years, asking the group why they still think of their ex every day. I don’t want to be doing that in another 2.5 months, if we’re being honest. It’s simply not good use of my time.
For the people like myself, who have been nursing a wound in your breastplate, maybe it’s time. Maybe it’s time to leave the memories on a shelf, and forget their name for a little while.
Maybe today is the day you could feel normal again, feel like a whole person again. I mean, it’s not that far fetched. We got this far together.
If you need me, I’m up letting go of the past, so Ask A Bitchface.
If you don’t need me, I’ll be here anyway, so tap on the glass to get my attention. Let’s reconvene here tomorrow, and don’t worry, I’m not bringing all that fucking baggage. I left it out on the curb.