Since I started this blog with 'sans hot pink sheets' and ended it in 600 thread count Egyptian cotton ones, one would think I got out unscathed or even better off. Not exactly, on both counts.
There it is, the numb feeling that accompanies a break up. The bizarre and somehow programmed headshake as you're suddenly jolted into thinking "What the fuck happened?" The breath that threatens to hold itself in until your lungs start to shake with primal need. The relentless questions that flood the mind of; what was my fault, what was his, will it always be this way, will I always hurt, will I forever be alone, am I, can I forgive, can I go back, if I go back will it be different... it is never different. Ever. It's the nightmare that keeps you alert midday, it's in the sideways look he gives you and you wonder yet again, is this it? This is it, isn't it. It's happening. And there we are, single again.
The end of a relationship always brings the necessary autopsy and leaves you wondering, what exactly was my part in all of this? I could play the blame-game and say it was all his fault, but the fact is there are three sides to every story - mine, his, and the Truth.
Here's how the report would read.
Visible signs of injury? Not to the naked or even most scientifically trained eye
Forced entry? Nope. A completely willing participant
Toxicology report? Plenty, though none induced from food, drink, or chemical sources
Cause of death? Under investigation
So again, what was my part in all of this anyway? I approach new love with reckless abandon accepting that I can get hurt at any time. I am a true believer in Happily Ever After and know that it comes with hard work, dedication, compassion and trust. Though it's not so easy to trust someone with your heart is it? To trust it won't be obliterated it in actions or with words. To believe that you can believe, safely. Like bike riding, I think I need a love-helmet.
There are millions of reasons for breakups none of which make perfect sense when your heart is trying to heal. You rationalize, beg, crave, miss, despise, romanticize, resent, and hope against hope that someone will change, grow, mature, love the way you love, and want the same things. You remember all the times you spooned, cooked, forked, and giggled. You seem to keep an entire Encyclopedia Britannica on the things you loved and wished you could go back and live in just those moments. The moments that were just 'us.' Life doesn't go that way.
There is victory in pain, in knowing we can and will move on. In seeing the Truth for what it was with all your warts and scars. All your baggage you hope to unpack with someone else one day. One day but not today. For now, I will revel here among my baggage, loving it because it is mine, going through it and keeping what serves me and leaving the rest. Living one day at a time in my Egyptian cotton sheets.
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More and more I have come to believe that breakups aren't anyone's 'fault' although I so empathize with a seemingly endless need to asign blame of some sort when your heart feels as though it's been stamped on. I've come to realize that for the most part, each of us putters through life, trying to do our best. It's just that sometimes, someone else's 'best' isn't nearly good enough for us. And it takes courage, and often a huge leap of blind faith not only to recognize that, but to move away from it.
600-thread count Egyptian sheets are a pretty soft place to land, from such a leap :)
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