It’s been a month now. Exactly a month, to the day, today. I’ve survived 4 Friday nights, 4 Sundays, and countless tiny moments that he was supposed to exist in. My heart was closing the door but it just couldn’t shut it. Until last week.
Last week it closed, locked, bolted, and entered a new home.
You are not the best woman I will ever know was enough for my heart to sit up straight, dust itself off, and walk away. For good. I’ve hit a new stage of this process, some of the anger. It’s the kind of anger that plays angry breakup songs, shouts on the phone to girlfriends, but is only surface level. The kind that realizes it isn’t even worth it to bring up. The kind that has to happen to die.
The kind that sings along with John Mayer when he says
if I’m forced to find another
i hope he looks like you
yeah and he’s nicer too
i’m gonna find another you
My brain tells me I’m not ready, that I couldn’t be ready, that it would be foolish to think I’m ready but my heart tells me another story. My heart tells me that you don’t hang on to counterfeit love. You don’t stop your life because you loved wrong. You rejoice in the fact that you got it wrong with the wrong one and you didn’t get it wrong with the right one. My heart tells me its time to wake.
Now hear me out, I think dating is the worst. Going on dates and casual hangouts makes me groan. And I want to roll my eyes and resist until I fall over dead.
But love, love is worth it. Love is worth the risk even when you get it wrong. Love is work the risk even when it doesn’t work out. Love is worth the risk when its a mess and you’re a disaster and it breaks your heart.
Love is worth the risk.
Appropriately so, my heart and head began to shut down the possibility of another when I belonged to someone. There were no options, no “what if’s”, no “I wonder’s” that existed in my life. I stopped looking and admiring and feeling and thinking. I turned towards one and recklessly fell in deep.
I think my heart has opened up quickly enough. My head is taking a little bit longer. My head still reels at the idea of doing it all over again. My head is cautious. My head still thinks it needs to be his.
My head thinks love isn’t possible again, that this counterfeit was my only shot. “Look how long it took you to find him! It will never happen again. You really messed this one up.” How my head relishes the hopelessness.
So I force my head to meet my heart.
Because my heart believes there is still love. My heart knows there is Hope. My heart knows who is Hope. My heart believes what my head can’t understand.
This wasn’t my one shot at love, and if you’re going through something similar or have, it wasn’t your one shot. It isn’t over, unless you decide love isn’t worth the risk.
Besides, maybe I’m not the best woman he’ll ever know. But someday, I’ll be somebody’s.