It often feels like yesterday. The words in that text message, that letter, all ringing the same tune, "It's over". I was broken. Well, Crushed, and suddenly as if my heart, body and soul wasn't enough of a prize for you to take away, you took the little confidence I had left. The little trust that I had left and clenched on to, you took it and you ran. Far to broken to keep up, I cried out to God, wondering if He was aware of the pain and turmoil I was in, and I often felt silence, emptiness. On my knees hunched over crying, praying, pleading, hoping that one day I'd wake up and the evidence of my broken heart would be gone. I have often heard others describe what it feels like to have a broken heart, and I thought I knew until that moment my knees hit the floor, and I laid on that bathroom floor, hunched over a chair, naked, and weeping. Hoping that maybe each tear shed was ripping out chunks of my heart turned black and blue from the pain. Ripping out the pieces of you that at one point gave me butterflies. Yet, it felt like a wound that wouldn't heal. It felt like no amount of tears could wash my wounds clean, because even after getting off my knees, wiping my tears away, the pain of an aching heart was still there. Moments of depression, where I couldn't see the light. I wanted you in my life SO bad. I wanted the pain to go away SO bad, that the thought of staying stuck in the cycle of indecisiveness, hurt, distrust, and betrayal seemed like a better choice than living with the pain of losing you. I gave up pieces of me that I would never get back, and my tears and my hurting heart were a constant reminder of that.
I remember moments like this ever so often, and much of 2015 was me constantly replaying these thoughts in my head. It wasn't until recently I learned that I haven't forgiven myself and that is why it has been so difficult to let go. I knew it wasn't right and I often think had I just walked away, we'd still at least be friends. I've also learned that living life with regrets is like taking poison over and over again hoping you die. It gets me nowhere. I did love you, and that is something not even my good friend could understand. Most people experience their first heartbreak at the mere age of 16, for me it was at the age of 24, and what is a grown woman to do when she is jumbling knowing herself for the first time and yet for the first time experiencing the trenches of where love can take her. Losing control for the first time in her life because she let her guard down too soon, realizing it and trying quickly to protect the heart she had left and in the moment losing it all. Including herself. Looking around hoping that someone would notice her pain, but there not being a soul in sight. Blaming herself and blaming others, forgetting that her choices created her pain and yet God intended to even take the greatest of her mistakes and work them out for her good.
This has been 2013, 2014 and 2015. This has been the thoughts in my head over the years. However, the good often arises after the process of being refined by fire, and it hurts like hell (no pun intended). I have plenty of secrets and I am learning to let them not define me. Bringing them to the light as to not define or control me. It scares me and I am not sure what to think or do. I am not sure what mistakes I'll make in the future, but as I look back on our time spent together, I've begun to see you as a blessing and a lesson, and for that I am greatful.