Monday, October 25, 2010

What's it all about?

What's it all about? The things we go through in life?

So many times you hear the phrase, 'it'll make you stronger.' Oh-kay. I guess. 'This too shall pass.' Yes. Sure. Everything does, doesn't it? 'You know what I mean, right?' No. No, not really. But hey, you've gotta do what you've gotta do, as do I.


How many sayings do we hear on a daily basis that cause us to stop and rethink the way we live our lives?


Like just now, on a TV show I heard a woman say, 'You know what it's like, right? A first love? Those feelings never really go away.' Am I supposed to think back now, to the first person I believed I loved and feel those same feelings?
Even if I'm not supposed to, for some reason, here I am. This is not what I intended to say when I began writing this post. It's not even close. And yet ... here I am.

I can flash back and remember them. I can find the good. But then I can go back and read old journals to remind myself of how - no matter what others said to me during the window of time I was with this person - I suffered constantly. And yet ... I trudged along. No matter what break-up number one was like, break-up number two was worse. And why? Why? Because this was my first real love. The first boyfriend. The first time I was supposed to be in love. The first person to ever truly break my heart, even though deep inside I knew. I knew that I was not meant to live happily ever after with this person. I know he was a good man, but I know he was not someone who ever wanted to truly listen to what I had to say.

And yet ... the night of break-up number one was so sad. We were amicable. We shared tears. Until it was time for me to go home. Never break up in someone's home. It's a stinging thing. Gives them an advantage. But also make sure if you do, it's not YOUR home. The last thing you want is to have that feeling or memory every time you walk into the room where it ended. So for me, it was good. I skipped that pain. I went home and ate Ben & Jerry's, I cried constantly. All despite the knowing that it would never really, truly be.

And then, months later. I went back. He wanted me back. I wanted to go back to him. And so we did. Somehow, in the midst of an argument. More flirting, more arguing. And we wound up back together. Whatever for? So we could make our way through a few more months? After an entire year together we took 2+ months apart and thought it'd be okay to try again? Of course not. We just figured, hey, why not give it some more time. I guess.

So we tried again. And months later we went away together for the weekend and on the return flight home I hid the tears as they streamed down my face. I knew we were over. I knew it was done. I knew it was time. And yet, I held his hand and hid the tears. A day or so later we walked across the street to a small park after work and said our goodbyes. It was the end for us. We knew it would be. It had been a fun ride, but never truly how it should have been. I was too good for him. I always would be. I think there was a part of him that knew it. And yet ... I was still sad. Still crying. Still hurt. It still stung. AND I had to see him nearly every day at the office. Yeah. That part was great.

The rest? Well, you know this wonderful guy I have now? He worked with us, too. And I cried to him often. I shared how shitty it felt to know that there was this person out there who didn't love me for who I was. Who didn't respect all the strengths I had, who shrugged off so many of the parts of me that made me me. I never expected (although quite some time before a former girlfriend of mine swore up and down that he liked me) that we'd fall for one another. He had a girlfriend. I was just fresh out of my own experience. It was not the right time. We stayed friends. He supported me. I had many guy friends. Loads of them. He was one among many.

One day that kind of changed. A simple semi-drunken kiss. A 'you sleep on my couch, here's a blanket' kind of night (he truly DID sleep on my couch!). And suddenly I wasn't sure what he expected. I ran from him. I turned him down. I'd been down this road already and wasn't ready to go back down it again.

And yet ...


** I'll be linking this post up with Pour Your Heart Out, a weekly post on Wednesdays over at Shell's place. I just couldn't wait til Wednesday to get it out.**

5 comments:

Secret Mom Thoughts said...

I remember that first love being so brutal. Can't wait to see how your story ends.

varunner said...

the first love was brutal. way brutal. In a way you never forget. my first love? I found out about a year ago he was dead. heart attack. at 34 yrs old. it stunned me. and saddened me.

Ashley said...

Oh the saying that would just irk me to no end came from my mom after every single disappointment (and it seemed like there were so many): "It builds character." Argh. I would have gladly traded more character for having the lead role in the school play. =)

VandyJ said...

First love is so necessary. Without those experiences you can never recognize the right one when you meet him, no matter how hard you run from it.

Shell said...

What is it about first loves that are just so all-consuming and then devastating when they don't work out?

It sounds like you ended up with the right man- it's just so hard to see when you are going through the pain.

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