fitveggielife

We weren’t a good match.

You tell yourself or hear yourself say these words without actually understanding what it is you’re saying:

It’s over.

I don’t need to doubt myself, right? My value isn’t determined by this single person—despite it sometimes feeling that way…

I invested time. I opened myself up, and for awhile, it worked. He accepted me, said he loved me. But it’s never that simple.

I can’t say there weren’t signs, I think there are always signs, but I was fixated on some imagined future:

One day we’ll be able to communicate. One day I’ll feel safe. One day I’ll be enough.

When did I figure it out?

That he was a reflection of how I was feeling—lying to myself in the name of love instead of being honest, facing facts.

The imagined future where he could be everything. A real partner. Understanding. Patient. Maybe I could love him enough…

I thought I was happy.

I got really good at imagining. So did he. We cast little spells over ourselves—and even now, the memory of them can still knock the air from my lungs.

Had I been a little more present, I could have come to terms with the reality of the truth.

Being honest is hard. I did everything in my power to avoid calling it what it was, only for it to blow up in my face in the most horrifyingly fantastic way that I never could’ve dreamed. Letting go is hard, but holding on might be worse.

I won’t deny it anymore—I’m tired of feeling this way.

Funny how the truths hide behind the lies we tell ourselves.

Life goes on, I know that. Despite my maddening ability to forget… or worse, to not forget. That’s why I’m working on being more honest and present. Maybe next time, I’ll catch it sooner.

For now, I’ll give myself grace.

I’m a lover. I spent so much time and energy on him and his happiness, but what about mine?