heartbreak

Love After Love

It’s been a few weeks. Maybe a month. My apologies – I’m terrible at keeping up!

However, there’s something that I’ve been dying to write about – because this is my space – my internet journal, if you will – and I need to write it down as an insurance policy, in case I ever forget.

Since my ex, I’d been anxiously pondering what love would feel like after the first one. After the first heartbreak. Would I remember what it felt like? Would it feel the same? Would I be scared?

Well, on our anniversary last month, The Drummer told me he loved me. It was something I wasn’t expecting, but I was ready for. Prior to our anniversary, people started asking me if I loved him. I told them I didn’t know – mostly because I didn’t want to say it out loud. I didn’t want to jinx it. My ex was the first and only person I ever said I love you to- I said it first – and dammit, I swore I’d never say it first again. For several months I’d been quietly looking at the Drummer while we’re laying in bed together and just thinking the words in my head.

I love you.

But I refused to say it out loud. I didn’t need to. I knew how I felt, and not saying it was okay. Because showing it matters more.

But low and behold, on our anniversary night when I was about to fall asleep, I asked him to give me a hug and kiss goodnight because he wasn’t tired yet.

He laid down and looked at me.

You know I love you, right?

What? Huh? Yeah, I know.

….Wait, did you say you loved me?

Yes!

I honestly thought I didn’t hear him right. I didn’t want to respond without being 100% sure I heard him right. Of course, I told him I loved him too. Because I do. Every bit of him. He’s been the kindest, sweetest man, and has treated me better in this little-over-a-year that anyone has treated me in my entire lifetime. We aren’t perfect – but we’re happy. And affectionate. Yet have the perfect amount of space between us to the point where we always miss each other. It’s absolutely lovely.

And in that moment – in that few seconds where our hearts were all laid on the table, or the bed if you want to be technical, I knew it was possible. Yes, Lara. You are able to love again. And it’s real – and true – and genuine. And because of that moment and this relationship I will always remember my capacity to love does not end with one person. To many, that may not be a big surprise but to me it means the world.

I am the proof, my friends. Feeling love after such a tremendous heartbreak is possible. And to answer some of my own questions, it feels the same and different all at the same time. The same because when I look at him I want to just melt with happiness, but different because it’s a more mature kind of love. It’s a more appreciative love. Because I know nothing in this life is every promised to us and we don’t know what tomorrow brings. I refuse to go to bed angry, or leave without telling him I love him, or even without thanking him for something simple like getting me a glass of water. It’s so important to do those little things because that’s what keeps love alive.

Love is a verb. It’s an action. And just because you feel it for someone doesn’t make it constant. You must work at it. Nurture it. Help it grow. And don’t ever stop. Whether you are 17 or 70, loving someone is still something you must do. Many people forget that and let it fall apart at the seams. If you try your hardest and it still falls apart, so be it. But if you let it, shame on you. Because love is one hell of a feeling. And I’ll never forget that again.
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all of my followers. If you don’t take anything from this post, at least take some love from it, because I have plenty to go around. From my heart to yours, Namaste.

It Happened.

On March 3, 2013 at approximately 7:30 P.M. my heart was held by a lovely man. About 30 minutes later, that same heart was dropped by said man and I knew my life would change forever.

It certainly did.

And oddly enough, I have never felt better.

That night, as soon as I mustered up the strength to stop crying for a moment, I deleted every social media outlet I had.

Twitter.

Instagram.

Facebook.

He would be shunned from my eyes, ears, and mind. For some, if not many, that’s how it has to be.

Go ahead. Tell me of one person who healed properly after a heartbreak by constantly looking at their ex’s pages and staying somewhat in their lives.

And I don’t mean those mutual break-ups we all know of where the two even become best friends.

I mean the break-ups where one person looked to the other as forever and the other reciprocated with “it’s over.”

That kind.

I may have taken it a bit too far, which I regret from time to time.

I completely eliminated any thought of him from my psyche. I ignored his friends, who had become somewhat mine by being with them for close to 4 years. I know now that if I ever saw them again, I would apologize unconditionally for such a dramatic exit. I just couldn’t bear to look at the people I once laughed with whilst holding his hand.

Though all of it was the right thing to do at that moment in time, today is about change & rebirth.

It was the right thing to do because it helped me move on. And that’s what I want to share with you.

I have officially moved on.

I told you guys about my minor breakdown last weekend with The Drummer. I released so much more than tears that night. I released my soul. That part of me that, since last March, spent months building brick walls and never stopping or breaking them for another. The Drummer had nothing to do with it. In fact, I think for a split second he was a bit freaked out by my drunken sad, yet happy face. I still don’t think he fully gets what happened, but that’s okay because he wasn’t supposed to be there for that.

Days after my breakdown, I sort of missed my Instagram. No offense to twitters or facebookers, I still have no interest in being on there. But oh, how I missed taking pictures of my food! You know what they say – PICTURES OR IT DIDN’T HAPPEN!

So, I broke down and made an Instagram.

I was looking for people to follow and used my “contacts” on my phone and guess who appeared?

The Ex.

So I clicked on his page. And looked through it.

AND FELT NOTHING.

Not a thing.

Not a tear, not a heart flutter. Nothing.

The only thing I felt was what I can only describe as an old love washed away type of feeling.

It was incredible. I still smirk when I think about it. I’m so freaking over it.

I never thought I’d get here. It makes me want to pour my heart out to all of you who have and are still suffering from the same type of heartbreak. There is hope. I promise you. Each and every one of you. When everyone you talk about your break up to record scratchingly tells you “time heals all wounds…you’ll get over it…you won’t be crying 5 years from now…”

They are totally right. Annoying. But right.

I’ve waited almost 14 months for this moment. Patiently, mind you. And though it hasn’t been easy, it really hasn’t been that difficult either. I took the end of my relationship as the beginning of the relationship with myself, as Eat Pray Love as that sounds – it’s true.

It’s about finding yourself. And changing. And learning to forgive.

Forgiveness.

I’ve never hated my ex on the outside. I’ve always said, I don’t hate him for not loving me anymore. Because I knew that was the right way to feel. But I never felt it on the inside – where my heart is.

Now I truly do. I do not hate my ex. In fact, I can honestly look at our relationship and smile. He isn’t this perfect being held high on my pedestal anymore. He is simply a man that I once loved. And he loved me too. It just didn’t last, nor was it meant to. And none of it was his fault.

His feelings changed. I’m positive that he loved me, and I’m positive that his want to be with me fizzled out. I can’t blame him for that. I used to always say to him when we fought, Don’t blame me for how I feel. You can’t tell me how to feel. And I will not tell him how to feel either. Just like his need for me fizzled out, mine did in time as well.

My story might not be the same as yours. You may have been abused. You may have had a really shitty relationship.

Or it was like mine. Perfect. Then poof. Gone.

If you feel any similiarity to me, please know that you will go on. You will be okay. But ONLY and ONLY IF you believe you will be okay. If you try. I’m not saying you have to feel okay or already be above it by now.

I’m saying you have to take the first steps. You have to walk the hard, uneven road to get to where you want to be.

Let go of the anger you feel towards your ex. Just let it go. Hell, even if it WAS a shitty relationship, you have to let it go. You may sit in it and feel it for a while, but eventually you have to stop. You can’t clean the dirt off yourself by continuing to sit in the mud pile. Nobody moved forward by staying still or walking backwards.

And nobody has it easy. If it was easy, it wasn’t love.

 

 

 Well, now
If little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you
Little by little
If suddenly you forget me
Do not look for me
For I shall already have forgotten you

If you think it long and mad the wind of banners that passes through my life
And you decide to leave me at the shore of the heart where I have roots
Remember
That on that day, at that hour, I shall lift my arms
And my roots will set off to seek another land.

-Pablo Neruda

 

 

 

Why I’m Here

Why I'm Here

“There are moments in your life that make you and sets the course of who you’re going to be. Sometimes they’re little, subtle moments. Sometimes, they’re big moments you never saw coming. No one asks for their life to change, but it does. It’s what you do afterwards that counts. That’s when you find out who you are.”

Today, I really wanted to share a little piece of myself with you. Not because I think you care or because I’ve been through some HUGE, life altering, I-almost-died type of thing. It’s not like that-I didn’t almost die at all-physically anyways. I really just wanted to tell you guys the reason I’m here-the reason I write everyday. I feel like it’s important to know why you write and maybe, just maybe, if one person is going through the same thing I am-maybe I can make them feel a little bit better today.
I used to NEVER journal. I hated writing. I hated blotting my feelings down because I’m the type of girl that wears my heart and emotions on my sleeve, so why be repetitive and jot down all of those crazy women emotions to remember and recall on days when you’re already depressed? I started blogging almost 6 months ago out of what felt like desperation at the time-even though I know now it’s with purpose. I was in a relationship for three and a half years. No, let me clarify: I was madly in LOVE for three and a half years. I have honestly never been so happy in my entire life. Before I met him, I thought I had some issue-like, I couldn’t feel anything towards another guy. I honestly felt like I was sick in the head. I had always been a lone wolf and never understood why. Sure, I dated. But I just never felt a connection-even a miniscule one. Then, when I was 21, I attended a corporate Christmas party with one of my girlfriends and at our table in between all of the couples, I was seated next to some mystery guy. He apparently didn’t have a date to the event and didn’t even work in that region the table was set for. He was simply another lone wolf, knowing no one, and seated right next to me. I never would have thought that night that we would fall in love-ever.
For being in the only relationship I’ve ever been in, I sure knew what love felt like. The way I looked at him. The way we never fought unless it was some stupid couples tiff that everyone has. The way we would laugh like CRAZY. The way my heart felt around him. The fact that no matter how long we were together, I still got the butterflies. Most importantly, the way he looked at me. Even the night he left me, he still looked at me like that. And I’ll never understand why. Nobody has ever looked at me that way-ever. All I could feel was love, and I thought my entire life was complete. He asked me to move in with him, although that was by biggest fear. I never wanted to bring up furthering our relationship because I was so happy with the way things were, I never wanted to mess it up. But I always had that feeling. From the first time he kissed me and how fireworks lit up my imaginary sky, I knew it was honestly too good to be true. For the entire three and a half years, no matter how happy or in love I was, I ALWAYS had this feeling in the bottom of my heart that it wouldn’t last. I couldn’t be that lucky. I couldn’t be that lucky person that got true love. And unfortunately, I was right.
I never truly saw it coming. I had a dream about it a few days before, but I chalked it up as paranoia. Then, one night, he took me out to dinner and on the way home he just looked at me and said, “Lara, we need to talk.” In that very moment, my heart dropped. I legitimately couldn’t breathe. I knew it. He wept harder than I did as he told me he just felt as though he didn’t love me anymore and it wasn’t my fault. He told me I was the best girlfriend he’s ever had. He told me that someday someone is going to love me so hard, so deeply, and so passionately, and he promised me that. He said he’s never felt so sick to his stomach letting someone like me go. And then we hugged, we had one last kiss, and he dropped me off.
And that was it. The end of him. The end of us. And for a while, the end of me. I cried for weeks. I couldn’t even listen to music for 2 months. I honestly just felt dead inside. How could this happen? I gave my all. I knew I was a good person. I knew he was right about everything he said about me. I KNEW I was an amazing girlfriend. So why? I had no idea where to turn to, so I did what any other girl in my generation would do-I asked friggin Google. I think that was my breaking point. When you resort to Google for your emotional issues, you need to sit. down. I typed in the search bar “Will I ever love again?” And the first thing that popped up was some girl’s blog. I read the entire thing and cried the rest of that night. But not for me-for that girl. People everywhere were going through the same thing as me and I was so blind to it. I had that adolescent notion that only I was going through this heartbreak-and even though other couples break up-nobody knew how I was feeling. But they did. So then, I started a blog. The amount of support I got from people who didn’t even know what I looked like was incredible. It honestly was my therapy and still is to this day. I’m pretty new to word press still, I moved over here a month ago when I realized how negative most of the people on my other blog were. Not towards me, but towards their own lives. No good vibrations over there. But for the most part, I’ve made incredible connections with people from all over the world and for once in my ENTIRE life, I actually enjoy writing. Blogging has taught me that maybe I don’t wear all of my feelings on my sleeve. Maybe I do have some extra stuff that needs to get out. Like this post. As I type this (at work, mind you) I’ve felt tears welling up in my eyes. It’s because I haven’t revisited my stupid, sad, love story in a while, and I’m starting to let go of some of the anger and resentment I feel towards him. Deep down inside my heart, I cannot hate him for not loving me anymore. He didn’t do anything wrong. He was an amazing boyfriend and an amazing guy right up until the moment we parted ways. That breakup was so bitter sweet, I’m in a freakish way lucky that’s how it went down. He promised someone would find their way to me someday and when that someday comes, I’ll fully be able to let go of my sadness. I know it will come, someday. And as much as that pain is still there and still so visible and new, I know I’ll love again. Because he told me so.

And that’s why I’m here. This is why I write to you. And even though I’ll probably spend a good chunk of my day crying now, I know these were feelings I had to get out. And like I always say, tomorrow is a new day. And today, I am happy.