The summer was going great, and then he broke my heart into pieces and left them as they were. Not once checking up on me to see how I was doing. No texts, no calls, no type of contact whatsoever. Soon enough, it didn’t bother me knowing he was able to move on so quickly. After three and a half years, you’d think the immediate separation between two people would be a difficult task. Apparently, it wasn’t. Not for him anyway.
I still remember waking up that next morning fresh from the break up. Everyone and everything felt so distant. Just the day before I felt like I was on top of the world and the morning after I felt like I was living a horribly written soap opera. In the following weeks, I lost my pride and called him a few times. I was so convinced that it was ONLY because I wanted to see how he was doing. In reality, however, I knew the reasons why. Yes, of course, I did want to see how he was doing. But in addition, I wanted to hear his voice. I wanted to know that he was happy (even though I was still pretty much broken inside.) I wanted to hear what he had been up to. I wanted to listen to him laughing when he cracked a joke. I wanted to hear him laughing when I cracked a joke. I missed him. I missed him so much. Those phone calls, though it took every courageous part of my body to make, felt so satisfying.
The feeling after the call wasn’t so great. I knew and I knew it well.
We used to see eye-to-eye. Ran a similar path. Followed the same light. We had it. But then we lost it. And I knew that. Being the foolish love-broken person I was, I thought talking to him was the only way to make me feel whole again. I was never a fan of the sayings “you complete me” or “you’re my other half,” but I certainly felt that way. I never said it out loud, but my heart was convincing me otherwise. It took a few (OK, more than a few) long and painful tears after those phone calls with him to make me realize what I was really doing. I’d tell my friends I was doing great (because being the caring people they are, they would constantly ask me.)
However, it was behind closed doors that I would miss him. I would want to call him. I would want nothing else but to sit beside him, say not one word, but instead feel the comfort of each other’s company. Who the hell was I kidding?
I remember asking myself one day, after crying for what felt like hours on end, a simple question: How would things play out if he were to call me and say that he missed me? I thought long and hard. I suppose, that at first, I would be happy because that’s what I initially wanted, right? But if I really considered the best route for myself, I knew that going back to that would be far from healthy. He said things to me that can’t be unheard. He hurt me with his words. He hurt me with his actions. And who’s to say that it wouldn’t happen again if he were given that chance? If he were given that type of power? POWER.
But he shouldn’t have the power to make me feel any less than who I was. I refused to let him have the power to make me feel pain and vulnerability. I was my own person. I knew I was capable of being a strong individual and this was my moment to prove that to myself. And just like that, I let go of the pain I felt. I told myself then, and I will still stand by it today, that I would never go back to him because at one point in my life, he made me feel weak. Maybe that was my fault because, yes, I gave him that power over me. But, never again.
He did eventually call. He did eventually tell me he missed me, I got what I wanted from the beginning. He told me he had gotten the opportunity to do a lot of things for himself and gotten the chance to do whatever he wanted, but claimed that it just wasn’t the same. I so badly wanted to tell him, “I told you so,” but I didn’t. I couldn’t.
To be honest, hearing his words sort of made me feel bad. I felt bad because we have history in our relationship together and that should be enough to start right from where we left off. I probably would’ve done that if not for the moment months prior to this, I came to the realization of the stupidity it would imply on myself if I were to do as he says. Remember power? He didn’t have that anymore. I was in control of my feelings now. I was in the driver’s seat.
The mistake people make much too often is going back to the way things were (in relationships, in jobs, in lifestyles.) We go back because there is a sense of security and familiarity. We tend to get cozy in our comfort zone even if we know it’s not healthy for us. Rarely, do we take on a new path. Mostly because the familiarity is no longer there but a lot of the time, also, because the path is usually unpaved. We are given the opportunity of a lifetime to create our own paths and we refuse because of fear. Fear of the unknown.
I chose not to go down that same path again. It was a wonderful path full of learning experiences and growth but I knew it was time for a new one.