Archive for failed relationships

The Muscle Memory of Grief

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , on April 7, 2016 by sexandthesinglesoccermom

It’s been a year since I last posted. During that time, I’ve been involved with a smart, witty, sexy, intuitive guy. That relationship came to an end, by my choice, after a glaring omission came to light. I won’t go into the details, because frankly, I’m not sure I’m up to doing the tell-all stories of the rise and fall of my relationships anymore. It’s too painful. It feels too vulnerable, for him and for me.

Suffice it to say that it sucked and I’m once again getting to remember what grief over a lost lover feels like.

It’s been a long time since I felt it. Not really since the politician’s son have I had to cope with swimming in such an intense mixed sea of emotions. No matter how many years it’s been, the actual ache in my heart and the fatigue in my body remembers it well.

I had an overnight trip planned the next day to a favorite spot. After spending the entire night after he left weeping, sleepless and ill with the emotional pain, I decided to keep my plans. I cried the whole drive, then managed to calm down at various points throughout the day, even experience brief moments of joy, only to relapse into tears. I cried in my Jacuzzi tub. I cried while talking to my best friend on the phone, while sipping a bourbon cocktail at a local brewery. I cried on the phone updating my mother on my plans for the week and that I would NOT be out of town with my lover later on that week as planned. Sometimes I just found myself staring numbly out a window.

I have vacillated between intense anger, sadness and compassion, then back again. There were brief moments between when I felt calm and clear-headed, even felt joy at something I saw. Then I would get that hard, sucker-punch of grief again and feel like doubling over. I don’t know how other people process grief, but for me, it’s so intense that I would do almost anything to escape the onslaught of pure feeling that invades me.

I’ve never loved gently. It would seem this is no exception.

Knowing that he won’t be a part of my life hurts like hell. Knowing without a doubt that I was never going to be the part of his life that I’d hoped we’d have a chance to grow into and that I didn’t have the full information I thought I was acting on, makes this the only decision possible.

I’m going to try so fucking hard to not let this color the 15 months we had together, which were amazing. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so accepted for who I am. I know that I’ve never felt so turned on mentally and physically. I felt like I could tell him everything and he actually remembered and cared about events in my life, tiny details others might miss. Every time we were together felt alive and amazing. I allowed that to let me rationalize staying, despite the things I very much wanted and wasn’t getting. I didn’t want to walk away, told myself that a beautiful and intense 25% was better than a tepid 100%. And without the revelation I didn’t have all the information, there had been omissions, I might have gone on that way for a very, very long time. Perhaps this is what I needed to walk away, stop rationalizing, finally admit I’ve spent many of the last 15 months feeling lonely, wondering why we weren’t getting closer. Still, the revelation doesn’t mean it wasn’t amazing , intense and made me so happy every single time it felt like a drug I couldn’t get enough of.

It just means I’m angry. I feel deceived. I feel loss.

I want to remember the beauty and not let it be tainted. I’m going to remember that after things fell apart that night, he stayed and held me as I wept and didn’t leave. I’m going to hold onto the kisses he gave me and the way he wrapped his arms around me, sitting with me, even thought it would have been easier to leave once I’d told him I was over. Surely that means something? I’m trying to let it act as a balm to my very broken heart and bruised ego, which is calling me a fool and telling me I should have known all along. I’m trying to not let anger assign the villain role to anyone.

I’m riding the wave of emotions and reminding myself this too shall pass. I took the risk of loving someone; sometimes risk means failure. It doesn’t make me stupid, just human. It feels almost unbearable right now, but even though it’s been a long time since I was here, this isn’t the first time I’ve gone through this. I survived then and I’ll survive now. Self-care, self-care, self-care…my in-remission depression is twitching and now I have to work to regain equilibrium.

Compassion. Love. For him and for myself. As a piece of metal art I ended up buying says, “If nothing ever changed, there would be no butterflies.”

May I emerge from this with hope for the future, more wisdom and new wings.