So we broke up. Even at this point, it’s hard to describe the different emotions I’ve felt through this time. So, I’ll let Robot Chicken do it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6IHhAKnCtKc
The chicken, rather the giraffe, in this story, goes through all the stages of grief. The denial,
anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Something I didn’t realize until my last few breakups is that they force you to deal with grief. For me, it was a process I only associated with death. When you think about it, you grieve when a relationship ends. Arguably, it’s more painful because that person is still alive. The relationship ended not because we couldn’t possibly be together, but because we couldn’t make it work.
What that left me with was an unrelenting sense of failure. My therapist said it best: when you hold on to a feeling of failure, you can’t move on. Just as presence can’t exist in a state of anxiousness, acceptance can’t exist when you feel like you’ve failed. I was so stuck on the potential of the relationship that I felt like I failed to make it work or see what it could have become.
I wondered why I was so bent over a person I only spent two months dating, especially when you take into account the three-week silence during it. When I dug deeper into it, I realized that it wasn’t him I was holding on to, it was the idea of him. Leading up to our relationship, I went through a big heartbreak, several failed talking stages, and was in a place where I felt like there were no good men out there – until him.
This guy was different, seemingly. For one, I liked him. Growing up, I always wondered how one knew they liked someone. How did it feel to have a crush? Experience butterflies? Be in love? Feel that spark? I’d never experienced those feelings that come along with being enamored with someone before meeting him. I feared that having not felt any of those feelings before meant I might never feel them again.
It also felt so right at the time. Everything was just falling into place…almost a little too well. We met, we hit it off, and we quickly made it official. During that time, we were doing things we wouldn’t ordinarily do until a few months in. We were planning for a year of long-distance, brainstorming occasions to fly out to see one another and thinking about ways we could maintain our relationship virtually over a thousand-mile distance. This person I’d only met a few weeks prior was already someone I was planning a future with. At points, it even made me question if it was moving too fast. Then I would just think to myself that there are those people who are so special that it’s not the length of time, but the depth of connection that matters.
He was also unlike other men I’d dated. I didn’t have to tell him to do the little things – be on time, text daily, act gentlemanly, take me on dates, etc. He just did it. It felt like I had finally found this man who’d given me hope in today’s dating landscape. Then it all came crashing down, and it felt like I had failed. My only opportunity of finding a good man was gone.
In reality though, is it? Absolutely not.
That leads me to acceptance. Accepting that this relationship wasn’t going to work hasn’t been easy for me. I think of all the good times and the what-ifs. It’s as if sometimes I fall back into that bargaining stage of trying to make it work, and I forget what happened since August that made it necessary for the relationship to end. What I’ve come to realize is that good guys come and go. Relationships that begin so beautifully can end so painfully, and there might not be a clear reason for it.
Moreover, for any relationship to be successful, both people have to be willing and working to make the connection last. I can’t put all of that weight on myself. If he was bothered by the long-distance circumstance and dealing with his internal issues that prevented him from feeling ready to be in a relationship, the relationship simply wouldn’t work. Whether it was now or later, there was nothing I could’ve done to prevent the end of it. I can’t waste time wondering how it happened and regretting why it did. Once I realized these things, it freed me to accept it.
In the place of the emotions before, there were lessons. Because of the relationship and how it ended, I have valuable new knowledge about myself and relationships that will be helpful in many different capacities. And, for the first time in a long time, I’m finally choosing myself. Rather than contorting to the needs of someone else, I’m intentionally staying single through this year.
I’ve got exciting times coming up in life and I deserve to enjoy them. And, if I want to enjoy them as much as possible, I need to be the best me I can be. I can only do that by being by myself and concentrating on what I need. So to this year, as the giraffe says in the end, “I take your loving embrace”.