You May Have Left, But Your Leaving Saved Me

Jeff Isy
Jeff Isy

I didn’t think I was strong enough.

Didn’t think I could let you go and grow in the wake of you leaving. I was like a flower in a pot ridden with weeds. Like a tiny bud, trying to poke through the dirt and face the sun while being suffocated, starved, and desperate for rain.

I didn’t think I’d make it, that I’d find the courage to push forward, to sprout leaves, to break free from the tired earth and become something that flourished. Something that could even be called beautiful.

You broke my heart when you left.

You shattered hundreds of tiny promises, thousands of even bigger, brighter dreams. The world we built together collapsed around my feet like leaves in early fall. Brittle. Brown. Broken.

I didn’t know what to do. For the first time I felt unsure of my next step. I felt unsure of the skin I was standing in. I felt unsure of how the next days would go, whether I’d ever see the sun.

But I did.

I realized that you leaving left me weightless.

I realized that when you walked out the door, I was free in so many ways that I hadn’t even known I’d been burdened. I could laugh. I could cry. I could run. I could smile. I could do so many things that I’d long forgotten I could.

I felt at peace.

And all it took was some water on that scorched earth to get my stems to rise again. All it took was my own nurturing touch to remind me who I was, who I’d always been.

You may have left, but your leaving saved me. Your leaving inspired me. Your leaving helped me turn a tired soul into something strong and secure.

Your leaving gave me courage, gave me wisdom, gave me a more passionate love than I ever had with you—a love of myself.

The world talks about heartbreak like it’s a bad thing, but my greatest lessons have always been in losing. Because in every loss, I’ve gained something else. In every loss, I’ve turned around and become found.

So thank you for teaching me the strength in my own two legs, my own two arms, my own beautiful body that blossomed and grew petals in the sun.

Who would have known that when I was broken, the savior I’d need was already beating so solidly in my chest. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

Marisa is a writer, poet, & editor. She is the author of Somewhere On A Highway, a poetry collection on self-discovery, growth, love, loss and the challenges of becoming.

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