Tag Archives: heart
“Don’t be afraid to lose him, because if a man truly loves you, he’s not going anywhere.” – Steve Harvey
These past few months I’ve been writing a lot about heartbreak. You see I got my heart broken by someone I loved deeply and somehow unloving him has been the biggest challenge I’ve faced in my personal life lately. He is the 2nd man I have dated but the 1st I have ever been in love with, so understandably there will be scarring on my heart that will take some time to clear.
I’ve never been the kind of girl that NEEDS to be in a relationship; I don’t feel a sense of emptiness when I’m not dating and there is nothing I despise more than serial dating. Which is coincidentally what he has gone and done. This I have to say is what really broke my heart. Now I get it, men and women are different. Some men heal by moving on to the next one and some women (me included) heal by dealing with the hurt, grieving the loss and making peace with what can be no more. Knowledge of this doesn’t take away the pain any faster, so I did what I thought I would NEVER do- I read “Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man”. A relationship book– oh the shame!
I found a lot of it more applicable to older women (I’m in my early twenties), who have had children and past marriages, but what I found helpful was how direct Steve Harvey was in explaining the actions of men and the simplicity that is the male mind. The best advice I took however is what I have chosen to quote above. I wouldn’t go as far as to say he didn’t love me, but I understand that my fear of letting him go will hurt ONLY me. Clearly he has moved on, he is with someone he could possibly grow to love much more than what he could me, and rather than be chewed up by my bitterness, I have to accept that this is a choice he has made. That said, I personally cannot serial date in effort to move on because it just isn’t how I’m wired. I believe people who do so end up carrying baggage from one relationship to the next; which I fear is what played a role, however minor, in the demise of ours. Furthermore, I’ve always believed that if I give my heart away too many times, by the time the right one comes along he will only get what’s left of me, not all I would want to give.
I guess what I am trying to say is, tears and a broken heart mean I actually cared, so I refuse to be ashamed of them or try to bandage them up in something new and shallow. However, time will heal these wounds. Until then I get to focus on being the best possible version me that I can be because I know that the right man will be deserving of nothing less.
I can definitely say having read the book that I do feel a stronger sense of acceptance. It’s over. He’s moved on. I’m single.
And you know what, I think this is ok.
But there will come a day when it doesn’t anymore.
Some women say after labour they forget the pain that once was and this allows them to entertain the idea of birthing more children. Perhaps heartbreak is similar. We love again because new love makes us forget the pain that once was. A different face, a different size hand to hold, a more intoxicating kiss convinces us that it’s different enough to work this time- even though precedent clearly states otherwise. Our brokenness from the old will leak into the new, and we’ll excuse our bad behaviour by citing open wounds from previous heartbreak. We’ll argue and yell and then we’ll cry and sleep. But every ounce of love we give and every time we say the words to accompany it will be lost forever to a passing moment. And when it ends- when we look for the last time and realize that there are no more steps to be taken and there is no more love to be shared, we’ll regret we loved at all. We’ll hurt and lie by saying that we’ll never love again. But surreptitiously, we know we will. Because like that woman cradling her baby, we will forget that a pain so severe brought with it such a love.
I spend too much time falling in love with memories that my mind has dusted, soaped up, and wiped down. However, my infatuation never seems to be with people but more so with a distortion of the truth; an illusion of who they really are. Sometimes this is not at all based on any real understanding of them, but on a fantasy I created of who I needed them to be in that moment that I orchestrated their role in my mind. Why can’t I ever see people without creating some narrative about them that convinces me of their personalities and characteristics, when in fact it is for them to show me what I need to see?
The sky is orange. It’s dark but it’s orange. At least that’s what it appears to be, looking out of my window passed the burglar bars and into this thing they call the night- this sinister phenomenon of the sky. This defibrillator seen to be restoring the order of sin and adventure to once stilled hearts. Sadness, seduction, rage, miscommunication, mistake, malice. We’ll hear their voices in the street. But at the sight of the rising sun, all will be made well or excused and we will wonder; what is it about the orange sky.