Get love figured out and it finds a way to wriggle out of knowing. It’s alright to admit you got duped a few months after a breakup, but not much makes it suck less in the meantime. Let me tell you now that you must forgive – for you, not them. I’ll bet you my last silver dollar that spite will burn you to the bone. Trust. Forgive to get out of it.
I poetry-ed the bu-jeezus out of my time. May was miserable but words, good ones, made a symphony from a heart jangled out of tin cans.
I don’t dig. I don’t blame. I don’t go too hard at where the wrong was and where I think the right oughtta be. When it’s done there’s nothing but open wounds with one more prepared than the other. There’s no good breakup. There’s not an amicable separation I’m aware of where someone didn’t hold their heart when the lights went out.
There are dark places to get out of, but I swear the demons you bring out aren’t all bad. Wait: not “demon” but “daemon.” (That extra vowel makes a big difference.) Daemons are in Greek mythology and ran messages between the gods and men. Makes sense where Cupid came from and why he flies around.
I have no jokes to barb at that bare naked baby. The dark spots in and out of love give you perspective. You don’t have to agree with the situation. If they walk away – let them walk. Struggling and begging and bartering once hate is the only language in the room are all horrible noises on deaf ears.
Perhaps the daemon responsible for your current nightmare was drunk when he set y’all up? It wasn’t you. It wasn’t them. That rascal the Almighty trusted that evening you two hooked up was as bad at love as the rest of us. Let it go. Let them walk. Blame whomever you want but the responsiblity of action and reaction rests squarely on you.
Five Things to Keep You on Track:
- Lose their phone number: What’s been said has been. Nothing new with do anything but get you lit in a swivet. Toxic people preach against drama while being drawn up in it.
- Block, block, block: Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, and LinkedIn. If they didn’t love you enough to stay up in your Kool-Aid they shouldn’t know the flavor from afar.
- Pick a few good friends but don’t wear them out: You talk out the worst parts. Pick those folks you bleed on carefully. The hurt was all I could handle the first few weeks. My family consists of the genetic and selected variety. I talked too much. They still listened. Still – watch for wear and slowly try to process silently.
- Hold to your faith: This should be Number 1, but it always is on this list. I don’t preach because I am not a preacher. I do profess that God reminded me in the worst times that sober and single is far superior to dating in a damned situation. God works.
- Exercise, meditate, and figure out you: In my case I got the heirachy ass-backwards as I went along. Shit happens and it can blur the lenses worn to get through every day. In the time I’m not stressed over what’s wrong I rediscovered my love of running, morning meditation, and (at first) uncomfortable silences where big questions loom. It’s not uncomfortable now and those big questions are tamed.
Figure out you. I don’t make out that any of this is funny or easy or a scene where you play James Dean. I waited out the panic. I went into the solitude sober for the first time in my life. It’s cheaper than heartbreak on a bender. I am respected far more and worry Momma way less.
There are cracks and there are sore places I can’t reach. Life is good. Love is forever. “Alone” isn’t “lonely” unless you let it be. Don’t chase someone who lost the good sense to stay by your side. God’s got someone better. Be patient. Be still. Blame the daemon but don’t beat yourself down. The world does enough of the beating.