It’s already written in my head. I just have to get it down on paper.
It goes a little something like this:
I can’t help but think, “What if she’s the one?” Though of course it’s hard for me to think this, I can also find that place inside of me that is not only happy, but excited for you. What if you finally get what you’ve been looking for, and what you deserve?
There’s a part of me, I think, that is encouraged and moved by the idea — that maybe in him finding her, I’ll find another him.
I realize what I have given up. Not only what I gave up, but what I actively pushed away. That last sentence I spoke to him — “No one has ever loved me like you did” — says it best.
But I have to believe I had reason. And whether or not that reason made sense, it was my heart that made the decision. And I have to trust that my heart knows better than my head.
I can’t berate myself for standing in my own way. I can’t think that I throw road blocks up to my happiness. I can’t think that it’s going to be hard to find another man as good as him. I can’t sit on the edge of the maddening back and forth I encountered in my body, and that I constantly threw onto him.
I can only believe that it will be clear. I can only think that what I’ve been looking for will show up. I can only take solace in those around me who have found it, that balance of friendship and passion and trust. I can only believe that I will know it — deep, immediately — when I find it.
I can only love myself for what I’ve chosen.
That day last week was rough. It was as if everything had to crumble and self-destruct in front of me in one day. I had to see an old lover, who I held in such high regard, no longer holding regard for me. I had to witness a friend feeding her ego in front of tending to our friendship. I had to see that other woman — the “one” — walk up to his house as my car rounded the corner, him watching from his front porch.
The high hopes for the date I had were dashed upon meeting him (he wasn’t it). I dropped large, overflowing cups of water twice in a row at the bar.
In a faraway space, even I could see that entirety of that day was almost comical. I paced around the insurance agency parking lot late that night as one of my soul mates talked me down; she reminded me that the storm often comes before the calm. That I had to cycle through the pain to get to the good stuff. That I was calling out to the Universe with my cries, saying “I’m ready. Send me him.”
It was my first experience of laughing heartily and crying painfully at the exact same time.
She repeated back to me what I had said time and again — there was a third option, one that combined the first two. I’d have the deep passion, and the stable, committed relationship. I’d get that soul lift while feeling as if I was home. I wouldn’t have to wonder any longer. I wouldn’t have to miss the past.
All I had to do was keep believing.
After he left my house, I cried for only a few more minutes. He is going to try with her, to see if she could be “the one.” And really, I’m not sure if there’s any way she can’t be. It’s nagged at me the whole time; not that he could fall in love with someone else, but that in my decision to keep him close, I might be standing in their way.
To really love someone, I know, means letting them go when it’s the right thing to do. You have to put aside that ego pain, and make a decision from the place of real love.
So that’s what I’m trying to do. Be alone, be brave, and give him the gift he deserves.
[Feature photo: Liamfm . (Stop the Genocide In Syria)]