Boy contacts girl online, compliments her excessively. She is hesitant. They talk on the phone for 3.5 hours, girl largely silent. They continue to talk over the course of the week. They meet up the next weekend, take a long drive, drink genuine Cypriot coffee and bond. Boy says, “I can’t promise you this, but…” Girl hears that he will never be all-in but believes boy would be open to relationship developing organically. Boy’s timeline doesn’t match girl’s. Girl gets anxious; boy gets scared. Girl cuts it off after not hearing from boy and spends next hundred hours figuring out why he didn’t care enough to say goodbye. The end.
I am that girl, and I’m heartbroken. It hurts.
There’s something incredibly embarrassing about saying – “oh haay! I met someone last weekend and we really only hung out a few days and then now we aren’t talking and love is ripping my guts apart but since said guts can’t escape my largest organ, they float in my body piercing other major organs and generally get in the way of my body functioning at any kind of acceptable level. And oh, wait! You’re upset because your relationship of four years is over. I know what you’re going through.”
I don’t know why things like this hit some of us differently. Harder. Irrationally. I’m beyond trying to figure it out, but am self-conscious that people are judging the validity of what I feel.
The things I do know: this pain – the kind you have when you realize life is largely about the grace you exhibit when you move on from something – is a gift, proof we are alive and living in the moment. The little things are more paramount – yes, the sweet bass lick in a good song, the trip to the grocery store.
Instead of trying to figure the situation out, I stopped fighting the good fight today, the one your mind thinks will make everything better. And without that fight, you have to sit in your discomfort. Turn toward it and listen. When you do that, you find the pain dulls a bit, and you kind of wish the sharpness was still there.