I let myself have a bad day today.

The moment I woke up this morning, I knew what was happening. I knew this feeling all too well. I awoke in my lonely bed and leaned over for my phone. I checked my “On this Day in History” on Facebook, and not to my surprise, there you were.

I can say with great sureness that I don’t miss you and I don’t want you back. In all honesty, I wish I could just eliminate your chapter from my book. It just makes me angry, it makes me angry that even after years; I still give you this power. The memories come in slow waves now, luckily, they don’t take me under like they used to.

I locked my phone and got out of bed. Normally, I would force my thoughts to stay there on my pillow, but not this time. This time, I brought the thoughts with me. I let my feet sink into it. I even encouraged it, and played one of our old songs. I was just so sick and tired of hearing “Give it time” or “You’ll be okay.” I couldn’t help but feel like nobody understood me. I wanted to give myself time to be sad, to be vulnerable, and to even cry a little.

Fighting the memories becomes so exhausting, sometimes. As humans we are taught to move on, to look for someone better, to just leave people in the past, and that’s what I did. I told myself that you don’t deserve me and that I deserve so much better. I fully believe I do, but I’m not going to battle with the sorrow when it arises, because I’m not crazy for feeling this way. I’m not stupid for missing the character that you created, and I am not an idiot for thinking that maybe in another world it could have been us.

I drove to work in a daze. It’s been a while since I felt almost under water, but I refused to try to swim. I thought back to that night at the beach. How we sat so comfortably by each other’s side. I remember shoveling up sand onto my palm and watching each little grain fall back onto the beach as I slowly separated my fingers. I couldn’t help but think about perfectly that matched our entire relationship.

You were my hand and I was the sand. My fingers separating was me discovering the real you, and every grain of sand that fell back onto the beach was the confidence, the security, and the self worth that you took from me.

I let the tears stream down my face. I let myself give into the grief. I let myself feel every single ounce of the pain you caused. I let myself forfeit the battle that everyone was so badly telling me to fight.

Then, it hit me. Maybe this is healing, and maybe this is what closure is all about.

Maybe healing isn’t about putting on a brave face everyday, maybe it isn’t about telling people that you’re fine, and maybe it isn’t about filling the void. Maybe healing is about recognizing the elements you feel you lost, maybe it’s about allowing yourself to give into the pain, and maybe it’s about realizing that you’re allowed to feel sad over losing someone.

Healing could be about grasping onto the fact that you are not crazy for sometimes missing a person who broke you, because even if you feel they tore you to pieces, they were apart of watering the soil to help you blossom.

You know, and perhaps closure isn’t about an explanation. Maybe closure is just about accepting the fact that the person you envision in your head isn’t the person that they actually are.

Closure could be about you coming to terms with the past. That just because you feel pain from time to time, doesn’t mean you are weak. It actually means that you’re a human who has feelings, and it’s okay to feel.

So, today I let myself have a bad day. Today, I let the weight of the world hold me down for a moment. Today, I let a wave from my past drift me away for awhile, and truthfully, I am not shameful of it.