It's one of those weeks when the universe cuts your heart out of your chest with a dull knife, stuffs it in a plastic Walmart shopping bag, and hands it back to you as though you might save it for better times. It's one of times when you realize you aren't the same person you were last week, less than seven full days ago.

I've felt really self-protective lately. Before last week, even. I mean, obviously I've had a lot going on, a lot of changes, a lot to adjust to. I quit my job. Did I mention that? Well, I did. I'm back in school now, an almost-29-year old freshman. And, despite my slightly despondent tone here, I love it. I love being in school, which is a new feeling for me. I actually enjoy doing homework. I'm newly addicted to C-Span and PBS and all the weird and fascinating shows on Austin cable access channels. I have no idea what's new on the radio, because I can't tear myself away from NPR. I'd rather stay home with my cats, my books, and Charlie Rose than do anything else I can think of. I've cocooned myself in my new lovely home; I've created the safest, most comfortable space I've ever lived in, with all my favorite things surrounding me. My down comforter is my current best friend.

Here's the thing: since the breakup, I've been good. Really good, a lot of the time. Excited, motivated, and happy in that general "this isn't so bad, you know" kind of way. I've tried really hard to not be That Girl - the one who hates her ex, the one who is bitter and mistrusting and just a damn downer. I'm not judging That Girl, just to be clear. I mean, we all have our own path to walk, and if you're feeling bitter, then feel bitter, damn it. It's okay. For myself, though, I just didn't want to let the end of a relationship turn me into something hard and cold and dejected. Don't get me wrong; I've been through all five stages of the grief process in some way or another (the stages don't always go in order, I've learned). I felt anger; I practiced denial; I experienced depression and bargaining and different levels of acceptance. I made my peace with things as I was able to see them more clearly each day. I put myself back out in the path of the ex, to let him know that I cared for him, that I understood our decision, that the fundamental way I felt about him hadn't changed. I became a new version of myself - a more adult version of myself, I like to think.

My heart, however, is wounded, all over again. Not broken, not beyond repair, but pretty seriously wounded, bruised and bleeding internally. It's a pain I've felt before, but not in the recent past. It's a pain I think you can only understand if you've ever been betrayed. All of us have, right? Well, the thing that was different about this breakup was that I didn't feel betrayed. Shocked at the swift turn of events and decisions that led to my being alone suddenly? Of course. Sad, vulnerable, and grief-stricken at the loss? Yes, yes, and hell yes. Betrayed? No, not so much.

You know how it is after a breakup, don't you? All of us do in some way. There are the kinds of breakups where you are livid and hurt and tortured by pain. There are the kind of breakups where you are shocked to realize how much the person you loved can hurt you. Not just that they have the power to hurt you, because of course they do. It's the fact that they actually made the decision to use that power, consciously - that's something to get over all on its own, isn't it? This wasn't that kind of breakup, at first. This was a different kind, new to me; it was the kind where it just suddenly became clear that the best choice for both of us was to regain our independent selves, even though it was painful. After a while, it felt like a progression, a new level of loving someone by separating this is what you need to do for me, tell me what I need to do for you from I understand that you need to do this for yourself, and I need to take care of myself too. It was the acceptance, actually, that led me to the conclusion that love just doesn't go away, even if you want it to. I mean, I have half a mind to open my front door and scream "GO THE FUCK AWAY, LOVE, GODDAMN YOU" right now, honestly. And also: "WHAT THE HELL DO I DO WITH YOU NOW, LOVE??" That's a big one.

By now, I guess you're probably wondering what exactly I'm getting at - what changed? Well, my perception of the truth of the last five months changed. More specifically, I learned last week that the ex, the one whose name I'm just not going to type again here, has been seeing someone for quite some time. Which, you know, is neither here nor there, since we are, in fact, broken up. I get it, I really do. So why does it matter? Emotionally, I'm sure you know that answer, or at least you get that it might be something hard to swallow. But the real reason why it matters is this: because I didn't know. Look. In our situation, an agreement was made that if we were going to try to be friends, I wanted to be know when the time came that he started seeing someone else. Several months, a genuine attempt at building a friendship, and a good number of phone calls and face-to-face conversations later, it matters that I didn't know the reality of the situation, and that many other people did. It matters exponentially more when "seeing someone else" is actually "seeing the only other person I've ever been in a long-term relationship with." To my heart, it matters. It just does.

Is it wrong of me to post this here, do you think? I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. The thing is, if you know him, and you know me, and that's why you are reading this right now, here's my question: didn't you already know this was happening? Well, I didn't, until last week. If you've wondered how I would feel about it: here you are. This is exactly how I feel, today. Maybe I'll feel differently tomorrow. Maybe I won't. Frankly, I'm allowing myself to feel entitled to all of my emotions, whatever they may be. This is my journal; this is the truth of my experience; this is My Actual Life. This is my pain, and it feels right that I should be able to express that here.

I'm still not That Girl. I am Not That Girl. I am trying to be myself, the self who is in pain right now, the self who is hurt and grief-stricken all over again, the self who feels raw and exposed. It's not the end of the world, I know. Much worse things could have happened. Much worse betrayals could have been committed. I've been betrayed before in far more profound ways; I've been the one who caused someone else pain before. I don't hate him, or the new-again person in his life. I have a level of compassion for the decisions he made, and for the person that I now understand him to be. She is a friend of friends; from what I know she is not a bad person. This has nothing to do with her. Her existence isn't what hurts. What hurts is the end of a relationship-turned-friendship. What hurts is not being acknowledged by his family for no longer being in their life. What hurts is that I am different, and I wasn't prepared to be different again just yet (we never are, I know.) There are about a million different things that hurt, different things at different moments. It comes in waves.

Anyway, just so I'm not a complete downer, there are benefits to this kind of experience. Yes, I am walking wounded, with a big, empty cavern in my chest and my bruised heart wrapped in a plastic shopping bag dangling from my wrist. But there is a kind of expansiveness in this pain, a place where I feel that I can be safe while my soul grows to hold my swollen heart. There's that head-tingling feeling when realization hits, and a breath that flows through every cell in my body, preparing it to change just a little bit more each day. When I wake up tomorrow, I'll be different again. I'll have let go of some tiny corner of my sadness, and I'll feel a little bit lighter. I'll have a moment when I remember who I used to be, back when I felt spinny and young and free. I'll follow that memory with a dream about the next time I might feel spinny again. The cool thing is that I can dream whatever I want now, and I'm the only one that gets to decide if those dreams will become reality. That's the best part, to tell you the truth.

Lucy loves you |