Where I've Been

Personal Essay

A little over two weeks ago I was blindsided in a breakup. I've been devastated and disoriented ever since.

Whenever I think I’m ready to move on, I return to the very moment it happened. When things are quiet and I’m in bed trying to sleep, all I can think is “here I am again”. Being treated with the same callous indifference that kept me away from dating for so long in the first place. The detached coworker-speak after they've decided they've extracted whatever they needed from you. Your services are no longer needed so here are your walking papers. And I'm here, fighting off jaded bitterness with a stick as it nips at my ankles. I'm tired and I've been so for every minute since December 26th. This is the first I've attempted to write and for the first time, I don't care if it's good. What does well-written even mean when I can't even sleep through the night? How do I make sense of what I'm writing when I can't even make sense of my life? What do I do now? I'm tired of asking questions no one can answer. Even now, I don't find it in me to be cruel back. I feel weak that I can't even do that. I'm telling myself it's noble but the fear of causing upset still permeates everything I do. Permeated the relationship and now the response to its end. I need time but I also don’t want to spend another second feeling like I’ll never be happy again. No one died, I shouldn’t be grieving. But I cannot deny the immense sense of loss I feel right now.

There are moments when I’m gifted with absolute clarity. In those moments I start to see that maybe he did us both a favor. I was happy but I was deluding myself to think I could go on living my life the way I was. Walking on eggshells. Doing things I would never agree to before. The self-infantilization of it all. I realized I couldn’t even get angry or want to watch something different on tv. That every little bit of me that wasn’t perfect or happy was held against me until finally, I got too human to love. I had quieted so many parts of myself and I was happy to do so because I believed I was on a “team” and I had to make sacrifices to keep everything running. These are the things they warned about in those Seventeen magazine relationship columns I used to read about as a kid and I’d somehow forgotten every single lesson. Now that I’ve spent years like this, I don’t know what to do with myself. Where to put this growing emptiness I feel in my stomach. How to contain it all. I think I’m approaching the first crash out of my life and I’m uneasy all the time. I bought fucking boxing gloves. What the fuck am I going to do with boxing gloves?

Anyway I will be inconsistent here. That is the truth. I am unmoored and I cannot commit to anything right now. But I’ll pop in and out as I can. I just didn’t want to make any excuses. I’ve had enough of excuses. The last 2 weeks have been filled with them.