Scenes from a breakup part II
I went to Portland with C. Before flying, I felt fine not contacting you. I thought I was healed. I thought I was moving on. But I am nostalgic and soft, and Portland makes me think of you and the sweeter moments we had together. I wanted to contact you, but I knew it wasn’t a good idea for me. I wanted to contact you so badly, my fingers twitched. I thought about running into you and what I would say. I saw cars that looked like yours and they would pass and I would worry you’d seen me. That you’d be mad. Or sad. Or worse, passive. Numb. I didn’t want you to be numb. I wanted you to feel the extent of your feelings. I wanted you to be free. The trip was really lovely all in all, and it helped me process more. And I am grateful to C. I will always be grateful to C for supporting me through all of this. She makes me believe in true friendship.
I posted some writing to my Instagram story and you saw it. I alluded to the idea that we were incompatible, which you absolutely know is true. You were the one who flagged it! I was willing to ignore it! To ignore all of my needs! To sacrifice so much of myself. Maybe that’s why you don’t see it, because I was so willing to shrink myself for you. You texted me to “check in”. We had a somewhat difficult exchange where I tried to be gentle and honest about my experience and you didn’t take it well. It was really hard for me to say anything to you, truthfully. To advocate for myself and speak my needs. It is still an uncomfortable practice. You sent me a flippant message, unwilling to express your experience or take on our ending and I could feel the malice in your words even if, to an onlooker they appeared benign. Later that day I was high and I saw you’d chosen to text me after all. I burst into tears because I thought the message was nice. Of course, I wasn’t entirely lucid. In my lucidity I could see how different our perspectives really were. How little responsibility you wanted to take for how you made me feel.
I was on a third-ish date. It was a birthday party on a roof with strangers, which I always find fun. I brought my friend M with me. We were having fun and then my date offered me shrooms. I am normally quite intentional with substances, but this evening I had a sort of “fuck-it-all” attitude about things and figured a small amount wouldn’t hurt. I ended up having a full-on trip that started in a room full of strangers. It freaked me out. I lay on my dates’ bed with him and it was clear we were mentally in very different places. He was present in the room and I was off somewhere seeing wild visuals with my eyes closed, trying to figure out how to leave. At one point he held me very tightly against his chest and put his mouth on my nose. He made a popping noise that I found quite unpleasant. He expressed how much he liked me and I expressed how much I needed to go home. So he waited with me and I got into a Lyft. The entire time I was in the Lyft, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About how much I missed you and needed to speak to you. I knew you’d know how to save me. So I called you and you were obviously very surprised but willing to help me. But your phone was low on battery and you had to drive home from somewhere far away so you couldn’t stay with me. You said you’d call me when you got home and sent me tips and music recommendations which was nice of you. I was extremely apologetic about reaching out because I knew I had violated an unspoken boundary. My trip was unproductive and existential. I was reckoning with the fact that I was ultimately alone and nobody could actually save me or make me feel saved. I waited until 3 AM for you to call me and eventually you texted me that we could talk but that you needed to “text the boys” first. This broke me. This tore me apart. Why did you say that? Why did you have to remind me I wasn’t your first priority? When I needed you? Why was that necessary? We talked on the phone for about an hour and caught up. It was clear to me after that call that you hadn’t really changed. What was I to expect from you really? But it surprised me when you told me you had been feeling mean, because I could tell, but I didn’t really expect it from you. And that gave me the clarity I needed to move on because I knew then that I couldn’t hold out for you. When we ended, you were so concerned about hurting me or saying something you couldn’t take back. And I realized after we spoke that I can have deep empathy and compassion for you. For your life struggles. For your pain. And I can also draw a boundary that protects myself, because I don’t deserve meanness or cruelty. I never did. I don’t deserve to feel small and I don’t want to allow that for myself anymore. You always said, “you deserve so much more than what you allow for yourself”, and after that night I understood how true that statement was.
I started to have dreams about you where you disrespected me. I felt so much anger towards some of the things you’d said or blown off. I felt frustrated that I hadn’t defended myself. Really, I was sad that I didn’t speak up for myself. But I was also furious. How dare you blame my reactivity in our relationship on my inner child wounds, as though you didn’t know you were kicking them up. As though it doesn’t take two to tango. How dare you complain about me to your friends right in front of me. How dare you suggest my boundaries are unreasonable. How dare you not take responsibility. So I really felt my anger this time. I wrote everything down I wished I could say to you. I screamed. I cried. And then I burnt it. I released it all. And I felt better after that.
The dreams changed. They weren’t about betrayal or your nonchalance with mistreating me. They were soft. They were gentle. They were about being held and hugged and kissed. And comfort. And I still miss those parts most of all. The fleeting tenderness. I started going to slow yoga classes and focusing on opening my heart again. I am realizing now that part of opening my heart again is understanding that the tenderness I seek, the comfort, the love, all of that lives within me. I can access that well whenever I need to. I don’t need to depend on anyone else to feel worthy of love, because I am love. It is not outside of me. I lay in bed and I realized I had reached a culminating point. Tears streamed down my face and a sense of peace came over me. I’m sure the grief will return in some shape or form. I still have shadows to address, but I knew that the fact that I’d started to focus on good things again, on the sweetest parts of me and you meant I was moving on in a new way. Giving myself permission to feel everything had opened a door to my future. A pathway out of bitterness. A pathway back to myself.








