It’s been a year. The adage has proven to be true; time does heal. But in ways I never expected. Things I never thought needed to heal.
A year ago my boyfriend left.
I still remember every second so vividly. As if it had happened yesterday. The light so bright, the colors of the leaves so beautiful. The sun rays caressing my squirrel-looking full cheeks, the inner peace I felt before I saw him coming my way.
Love is such a strange thing. We had been together for more than five years at this point, but as he came closer to me that day, I felt like I didn’t knew him at all. I guess we were so close we couldn’t see each other.
I couldn’t see at him properly either, even I couldn’t take my eyes off of him, when the words I was so scared to hear finally came out of his mouth. The moment he told me he wasn’t coming back.
Free falling inside.
I lost everything in that moment. The sunny loving home we had built together, the future and imaginary kids we had talked about on so many evening walks, the comfort of his arms holding me tight when I struggled to find sleep at night.
I lost the stability and strength he was bringing me, the laughs we shared, the joy I felt whenever I woke up next to him and the pleasure I had to come back home after a long day grinding and hustling my way through life.
Since then, I’ve worked really hard to gain back that luxurious sense of security. Nobody can take it away from me anymore : it’s built within. The confidence comes with the lady now. No need for a man to provide any safety net.
So now I know. The most precious thing I lost on that day has nothing to do with all those things I thought I needed to feel safe and happy. It was him.
I fucked up, we fucked up, and I lost the person I had chosen to care the most about.
I won’t lie. It’s been a tough year my friends. But sometimes you do need to lose what matters the most to you to realize how lucky you are.
Because now I’m positive I can have it all. I can manifest anything I desire. I can do whatever the fuck I want. I am invincible. I can buy a home, travel the world, fix a library, paint a whole apartment and build a business.
Yet, because of this failure, I can never forget how soft I am. It cracked me up, leaving this open wound in my soul, reminding me of my human vulnerable self.
A year later, I know things will never be the same. I’ve been forced to look into the mirror, and realize that the picture perfect version of myself I kept projecting was fooling no one.
Coming back to square one. A full circle around the sun, reminding me I am not the only bright light in the room. That we all shine in a very unique way. And that my work in this life time is to honor the dignity of that human condition, within me and within others.
I’m not there yet. It’s a lot of work, breaking all those mental patterns and emotional imprints. Not escaping the discomfort of social situations. Learning to be nice. Not distracting myself with work projects. Sitting on my tush and meditating. Staying in stillness and being ok with boredom.
All that because I miss my best friend, and I don’t ever want to make the same mistake twice.
Although I look like a hot mess with all I stated above, I believe I can be quite fun too. Plus I’ve got lots of love to give. So next time a friend comes around I’ll be ready. After twelve months in my cocoon, the caterpillar is slowly emerging (I know, how cheesy. Couldn’t resist the whole butterfly metaphor).
Screw that. I won’t even wait for a “friend” to show up. I’m gonna give it all to you anyway. All the love and light you get, because a year later, I’m starting to feel fine.
On that day, I lost myself when I lost you.
A year later, I can say I found myself when I lost you. But I still got jazz when I’ve got those blues.
Strong and dark on the outside, oh so smooshy on the inside. A human Whippet I am.