Healing

Almost a month has passed since a wrench was thrown into my future plans.  It's been a month of heartbreak, sadness, bargaining, sleepless nights.  But I think in the last 24 hours, a page has been turned for me.  I wouldn't quite say I'm entering the acceptance phase yet.  That will likely take months.  But I've slowly managed to start climbing out of the depression stage.  I'm still sad every day and still have (sometimes embarrassing) moments of randomly breaking into tears.  But I no longer feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest or that my heart is shattering inside my body.  I finally see the light at the end of the tunnel.

This breakthrough has definitely come as a result of a lot of self-reflection and long, emotional talks with my best bud.  I hit a rock-bottom moment the Friday before last.  With my job, I drive a lot, and therefore have a lot of alone time to do nothing but think, which can be a dangerous thing when you're mad, sad, annoyed...  I have a couple hours during every day to stew over the things that bother me, lots of time for the what-ifs, time to wallow in my own misery.  Those imaginary arguments that you have with yourself in your shower...multiply that by 10.  On that particular Friday, just over a week ago, I was reaching the guilt stage.  Now, I never thought I'd actually go through this stage of grief.  I thought I would skip right over it, because what did I have to feel guilty about?  I didn't cheat, I wasn't mean; if anything, I had probably been too good of a girlfriend.  Too accommodating, too agreeable.  A doormat, basically.  But here it was, the guilt phase slapping me in the face that morning.  And it took the wind right out of me.

The feeling that I felt that morning that caught me off guard was a complete feeling of inadequacy.  I suddenly felt not good enough and I hadn't allowed myself to feel that way in a very long time.  I felt guilty for not being "enough" for him.  If I had been "enough", he would have been ok.  If I had been "enough", he wouldn't have done this or that, or said this or that.  He would've fixed his issues if I had been enough.  If my son had been enough.  The reasonable, smart Becca knew this was absolutely ludicrous.  I had been good to him.  We had made great memories as a little family.  I had spoiled him and made him feel special and given him so much attention and made excuses for him.   But the emotional, broken Becca that had just lost a long-term partner couldn't see this.  All I could see was that despite my best efforts, it had fallen apart.  I hadn't been enough for him to keep it together,

It took me several days of having this destructive thought process before I finally told broken Becca to shut-up.  I was scrolling through Facebook one day and saw this quote on my news feed.  It was probably the best timing I've experienced in a long time.

Jodi Picoult is one of my favorite authors (although I haven't yet read this particular book), and she was 100% right.  I had spent my entire 3-year relationship trying to mend a broken person and naively convincing myself that it was my responsibility.  I thought that by fixing his broken heart left over from his divorce, patching up those insecurities so he felt loved and wanted, and being ridiculously patient with him, that those things would make me "enough".  I thought it would guarantee me a happy life with the man that I loved.  I thought that by being that person, his "saving grace" so to speak, that it would make us complete, that we would complete each other.  

I never thought I would want to try to "fix" another man.  The last man I tried to fix was a decade ago and I learned way back then that a person has to fix himself.  Nobody can do it for him.  People have to grow and make their own decisions to be a good person and make good choices.  But here I was again, trying to be that savior for another person and I didn't even realize it.  Why?  Maybe it was the fact that he had a lot of great qualities that I wasn't used to in a man.  He was educated, handsome, tall, outdoorsy, liked good music...  I felt like I had hit the jackpot when I started dating him.  But I saw red flags and ignored them.  Over time, those red flags disappeared so, looking back, I think I thought I had conquered him.  I had succeeded in saving him.  I was his girl and he was my future husband and everything was going to be perfect because I had been patient and accommodating.  WRONG...

So many girls and women go through life and relationships with this same mentality.  Some like the bad boys, they like a challenge. They like to "save" people.  I honestly didn't even realize I was one of these women anymore.  Maybe in my 20's, but not now.  I had been single for 2 years before I met him.  I didn't have the patience, time, or energy to fix someone or chase someone.  Ain't nobody got time fo dat, especially a single mom.  It took me 3 years, the end of a relationship, my friend shaking sense into me, and then this Jodi Picoult quote for me to see that that is exactly what I had been trying to do.  It completely explained why I suddenly felt like a complete failure.  I had set myself up for failure.  Because...  this...

Let me tell you, friends. Love is not all you need, contrary to Mr. Lennon's claims.  You can love a person forever and not mend them.  You can love everything about them and tell them every day, and still not make them feel secure or happy.  You can only be so much for a person.  And that's where I went wrong.  True, I wasn't enough to fix those things, but I'm finally seeing that it's not a reflection on me.  It's not my job to fix anyone other than myself and my patients (and the occasional attitude adjustment for my son).  It took some reminding over the last couple weeks, but it finally sunk in yesterday.  I know my worth.  I know what I have to offer and someday, that will be enough for someone and I won't have to spend day after day trying to convince them (and myself) of this fact.

The healing process has begun and that brings me a sliver of relief.  Baby steps... deleting my 111 pins from my wedding album on Pinterest (I'll make a new album if that special person makes an entrance into my life later on), reading novels again (I finished an entire novel this week alone), working on my blog, focusing on work, watching Isaac show off his mad baseball skills, anticipating the upcoming Rangers season.  All of these things bring me joy that I haven't felt in a long time. When you finally stop the daunting task of trying to make others happy when they don't want that for themselves, you suddenly have so much more time and breathing room to enjoy what and who matters the most in your life.  In closing...

Love and Loss

The last time I posted to my blog, I was new to the 30 Club.  I had accepted that my youth was over and I had fully embraced my 30's. I was excited to be done with the drama of being a 20-something, excited to be a "real" adult.  Surely crazy things wouldn't happen in my 30's.  People settle down, get married, settle into family life.  Men in their 30's don't play annoying games.  They're grown up.  They're ready for a family and ok with dating a single mom.  They know what they want. Right?  Yet here I am, 34 years old, sitting at home on a Saturday night, writing a blog post as a sort of therapy to heal a heart that I had naively convinced myself wouldn't get broken in my 30's.  Trying to figure out how to proceed with a life that I thought I had in order years ago, and trying to accept that future plans won't ever happen now.  

People use the word "grief" when someone has died, but I've come to realize over the last several days and weeks that it can absolutely be used to describe the feeling that comes with the end of a significant relationship.  And by "significant relationship", I mean any relationship that had a profound impact on your life.  I don't care if it lasted 6 months, 3 years, or 20 years.  I don't care if you were domestic partners or if you had a piece of paper telling you that you're legally bound to that person.  I don't mean to downplay the meaning of marriage.  I don't actually think of it as "a piece of paper".  But over the years, married and divorced folks have downplayed my marriage-less relationships often.  "A marriage is always more important than a long-term partnership."  "You don't understand how a divorce feels."   I've always been highly irritated by the inaccuracy of these statements. I've had 3 relationships that lasted longer than a lot of marriages I've seen.  One of them lasted for half of my 20's and produced a child and, in turn, a family. That same relationship lasted longer than the dating relationship and marriage combined of my most recent ex-boyfriend. We didn't have a ceremony or rings or a paper signed by a judge.  But we were a family. And the end of that relationship was heart-wrenching and took years to get past.  Fast forward 8 years and that same heart-wrenching feeling is back, minus the legal proceedings to separate property and children. Is it any less significant because there wasn't a marriage?  Absolutely not.  I lost an entire family of people who treated me like their own, a family I so desperately wanted to be my own someday soon.  My son lost a father figure that he loved whole heartedly for 3 years. Ironically, one of those divorced people who often downplayed the end of my marriage-less long-term relationships happens to be the other half of this story and sitting a few blocks away, no doubt feeling the same devastation that I am feeling tonight. So for all of you who have never been married but have lost someone significant, I understand. Your feelings are valid.

The term "sick with grief" is so unbelievably accurate.  The physical symptoms of heartbreak are sometimes more difficult to deal with than the emotional ones.  They make it hard to function, get out of bed, go to work, eat, sleep.  It's as though you can feel your heart breaking from the inside out.  Queasiness with every meal, stomach ache, sleeplessness...I haven't slept through the night since September, when the first signs of what was to come appeared.  But I'd say the worst physical symptom is the breathlessness. Feeling like someone is sitting on your chest.  There are so many days, several times a day, when I can't even take a deep breath.  I catch myself holding my breath because my chest is heavy with grief. I'm sure it's also anxiety.  Fear of the unknown and someday starting over, fear of never seeing that person again.  Wondering how you are ever going to go to all of the places that you went to with that person again. State parks, cabins, our favorite Irish pub.  Wondering if you should go ahead and delete your 111 pins in your "Future Wedding" album on Pinterest.

I also feel like the amount of anxiety you feel is directly related to the progression of the breakup. When a couple is gradually unraveling, even though the end of the relationship is just as sad, you feel more prepared. With Isaac's dad and I, we were falling apart before Isaac ever made his entrance into the world. The end of the relationship was devastating, but it was inevitable and I had almost 2 years to prepare myself.  Not that we didn't try during those 2 years.  But when it ended, it wasn't anything too shocking.  To anybody.  With my current situation, the unraveling was somewhat sudden. When it goes from good to bad in a matter of a few months after almost 3 years together, your heart doesn't have time to process the devastation.  You go through the stages of grief, sometimes multiple stages in one day. I'd say the most common one right now is Bargaining.  If only we hadn't taken the next step in our relationship.  If only we had done this or that differently. The bargaining phase is full of regret and living in the past.  I think this phase makes it harder to move on because you're still thinking of all of the things that happened prior to the switch being flipped. These things cloud your judgement. We start thinking that those good things will fix the bad things. But in all honesty, the bad things wouldn't have happened if the good things had been enough.  I also try to bargain with the future. Maybe we can be friends someday. It's been known to happen. I have a pretty cordial relationship with most of the people I have dated, but some time has to pass. Sometimes it takes a couple months, sometimes it takes 6 years. Sometimes it never happens. But I know these thoughts are likely because I'm not ready to let go.  I guess that will come with the Acceptance phase, which I think I am pretty far from right now.

Anger is another common feeling. Just frustration that I'm dealing with this again at 34 years old. I have questioned God, fate, karma... Why?  Am I supposed to be learning some kind of lesson again?  Did I do something in a previous love life that put a curse on me?  Maybe a previous ex shoved a needle through the heart of a voodoo doll like Dane Cook's scorned lover in Good Luck Chuck.  That would explain why the majority of my exes end up marrying the person they date after the end of our relationship. You're welcome, guys. 

The thought of moving on is painful and it likely won't happen for a very long time. A few days ago, I fully intended to never date again. But a close friend of mine encouraged me to "leave the door open just a crack".  I deserve happiness and love as much as the next girl. 

The only real comfort I've had is to just remind myself of the positives of the whole situation. There will always be a silver lining in every bad thing that happens to you. The silver lining here is that I'll be able to do things that I haven't done in a while because he didn't want to, like watching UFC, watching live music, listening to my music in the car, maybe work on my blog again, etc.  I'll have time to read novels again. I can take mini trips with just Isaac like we used to.  There's always a silver lining.  Life will go on, the sun will come up tomorrow, and at the end of the day, I still have the biggest love of my life sitting next to me, biting his toenails and watching cartoons.