Give My Heart a Break

This isn't the next post I had planned on writing but life happens and I found this on my heart tonight instead.

One of the biggest things that has happened to me this past year was breaking up with my boyfriend of two and a half years. (Actually, the year mark of this happening is about to come up. But maybe since it's only been 10 months, 15 days, 22 hours, 33 minutes and 59 seconds since we broke up, I am being a bit hasty in saying a year. But perhaps not?)

Maybe my quoting the exact date and time seems melodramatic to you. I assure you it is anything but. That date is seared into my memory, probably for the rest of my life. And before you tell me how young I am or how time is a great healer, I would like to stop you kindly before I punch you in the throat.

I know 23 isn't an old-age; to some it seems very young. To me, it does not. Especially not when it comes to this past year. Indeed, whenever I find myself thinking about my relationships and relation to my age, I feel thoroughly disheartened. Discouraged. Dismayed. Disappointed. Surely, if I am so young, aren't I too young to have suffered this much heartbreak? Maybe I am biased in favour of true love and happiness but I think everyone is too young to have this happen to them. Age is so irrelevant when it comes to those we truly love. I have never used age as a line to draw between friends or family and I don't think it is wise or fair to try and apply it to heartbreak.

I know time is a great healer. I have seen it do some pretty amazing things. Believe me, I have done an incredible amount of healing in the past 10 and a half months. Right now though, I can't wish for more. I still catch myself remembering I am single now with the start of surprise. It's not that I don't believe time can help me. Rather, my being told it can help me so frequently is less than helpful. Whenever someone says that, I am left wondering if I am wrong, somehow, for still having all these feelings and emotions. For feeling lost when I catch myself thinking about telling him something later. For not remembering in the first place he's not there for me to talk to anymore.

What to say next? What is one supposed to say in a blog post about their ex? That I am happier? Better off? Moving on? (It has now been 10 months, 15 days, 22 hours, 50 minutes and 12 seconds since we broke up. No big deal.)

I'm not happier. I am sadder. More sad. Whatever the correct grammar is for that. Better off? Sorry, that would be another negative. But despite my best intentions, despite all of my resolve, I am moving on. Slowly but surely my heart and my brain or healing themselves when I'm not looking. They're doing a pretty good job too. Sometimes, I must admit, I make it hard. I find something my ex gave me or see a memory on Facebook or find a picture of us stashed somewhere. When this happens, I find myself crashing to a halt, drowning in a mess of tears and feelings. Oh Glory the feelings. Will they ever end?

Sometimes, though, my dear friends and family, sometimes it is you who are making it hard for my brain and heart to do their dirty work and move me on while I'm not paying attention.

Let me use an analogy. My love for my ex is like the One Ring. My brain and heart are like Frodo and Sam. My attention is like the Eye of Sauron; riveted on the One Ring, concentrated on finding and keeping it no matter what the cost. Now Frodo (my brain) and Sam (my heart) are doing their darndest, sneaking hither tither and yon trying to (for lack of a better expression) destroy the One Ring (my love) forever. Every time one of you asks me When are you getting married? or So who is next? or What about you?, you are jepordizing the quest to destroy the One Ring and bringing my attention right back to where it shouldn't be focused.

I know you don't mean it unkindly and that you have my best interest at heart. However, since I have decided I can't take it anymore, I figured it is time I man up and tell you all this. I didn't want to bother before. I thought I was weak. I thought it wasn't a big deal. I thought since I was the one whose relationship ended it wasn't anyone else's problem and I didn't need to keep bringing it up. I thought I could take it.

I was wrong.

I smile when you ask me these questions. Maybe laugh a little. Crack a joke. Crack a smile. Wonder how quickly I can change the subject without you noticing. Swallow. Fidgit. Run my finger through my hair. Try desparately to pay attention to whatever else it is you are saying now to distract myself from the tsnunami of heartbreak enfulging my soul.

Please stop. Trust me, there are much better conversation starters out there and since I genuinely enjoy conversing with each and every one of you, it would be nice if you would use them. There are questions I can't answer yet. There are also questions that shouldn't be asked.

I figure as a courtesy I can answer these hideous questions one last time; this time, though, I am going to answer them truthfully. How am I coping with breaking up with the man I thought I was going to marry, with planning two sister's weddings (and all the parties/strategizing they included) and now planning baby showers for the same two, dear sisters? I have good days and bad days. L. M. Montgomery once said in her famous Anne of Green Gables series that a heartache is very similar to a toothache. Unromantic? Perhaps. Unpoetic? Certainly. Definitely accurate and true. When it's not there, you don't miss it. When it is, nothing can take your mind off the searing pain. I am not okay.

I do believe that I am on the road to healing. I ask for your prayers as I continue through this difficult time. Who wants to wear a pair of heartbreak-coloured glasses forever? Not me.

Love y'all. Pax Dómini sit semper vobiscum.