by Jane Moneypenny
One feeling that is impossible to ever get used to is being hurt. No matter how strong you are or how many times you’ve been through it, the hurt slams into your chest with a familiar force that makes you want to curl up in a ball and never see the light of day.
I did, seemingly, everything right this time and still got brutally hurt. I’ve never had someone be in so much awe of me and manage to rip my heart out so badly at the same time. When it ended, it ended with so much raw honesty that I cried for an hour, a record for me. Somehow, in less than two months, he had wrangled his way into my heart with his good looks, goofy smile and easy charm. And then he did the one thing I dreaded and the most cruel way to hurt a person.
I somehow drove myself over to a friend’s house that night. He fed me pasta, put a blanket around me and told me not to linger. I was only allowed to take an apology phone call, tell him off and walk away. Lingering around take back all the years of work and lessons of past jerks, abusive exes and horrible treatment.
For the first time ever, I got to say my piece. I got to truly let everything out: how much I hated him, how much I was disrespected, how much he truly hurt me. And he apologized over and over again until I told him the apology meant nothing even though he took full responsibility.
So maybe it had to end this way in a flurry of emotions and chaos and tears. He wanted to continue a friendship. It’s all he ever wanted but I’ve come too far to linger in something that would only continually hurt me. I wanted to be the empowered female, storm in, curse and punch him and walk out. Instead, I walked in quietly, cursed him, punched him and let out all the emotions and thoughts I had.
The truth of the matter is, I will honestly miss him and I told him such. I would miss him in my life, our ridiculous fun times, our little jokes. And it’s sad to miss someone that turned out to be a jerk. It’s sad to want to curl up against his side as we’re having this talk about me hating him.
And then I walked out, swiftly deleting him from my phone, unfriending (and blocking) him from Facebook and went home to experience my first breakup surrounded by friends. The guys, who didn’t know what to say, brought ice cream and made me laugh; the girls cried with me and said all the right things that I needed to hear.
It isn’t all about him; it’s the pain that I can never seem to get a good relationship. I just desperately want one good one to hang my hat on. Despite it all, I don’t consider it a failure despite the unending ache. I learned what it felt like to be liked for a moment, to be taken out to dinner, to be told “You’re pretty.” I got closure for once instead of being a dirty little secret that disappears into the wind.
It’s only day one. In less than two weeks, I’ll be healing in Europe. Somehow, a big trip always comes right after bad heartache. I know I’ll be okay, but right now, it hurts with an intensity that I haven’t felt in years. The smallest moment will remind me of him and the pain pushes in again.
Guess my trust issues keep building. It’s time for therapy.