This is not a post that I plan on advertising. It won’t be on Facebook. It won’t be on Twitter. If I can help it, it will never pop up on any blog where I comment. If you’re reading it, it’s because you dug through my blog and decided to see everything you could find. Props to you.
I don’t mean to be depressing; that has never been my goal. I’ve read enough of my own teenage poetry– thankfully lost to the rest of the world in the mess that is my childhood bedroom– to know that it’s not my schtick. I’m not inspiring when I’m sad. I’m not motivating when I’m bitter. Most days, I’m not even sure that I’m all that funny, but I figure practice makes perfect.
That is why I’m writing this post, and that is why I’m not going to tell anyone about it. It can just be out in the universe, like my own message in a bottle.
Because I am so incredibly angry right now, that I almost can’t stand it.
Someone whom I care about, very dearly and for a very long time, has decided that I am no long going to be a part of his life.
It’s a decision that I have made about others, and that anyone reading this has probably had to make at some time. It is not a reprehensible decision. In fact, it can be a healthy, mature decision.
But, by God, stand up and say it.
I know that “mature” might not be the first thing that comes to your mind when you think about me. After all, I’m sitting in my parents’ house on a Friday night, waiting for someone to text me– not to go out, but just to have something to talk about. I still babysit for people. I’m working three jobs and I got my first college degree in an academic field with almost no business potential whatsoever. I can’t cook to save my life. (Well, actually, I can, but that’s just because I really like tacos.) I hate cleaning and doing laundry. I’m not money savvy, I don’t drive well in the snow, and I order french fries at every restaurant.
When I tell you that I love you, that I want the best for you, that I will do everything in my power to make you happy, I mean it.
And you know what mature people do? They say what they mean. They actually do everything in their power to make people happy, even if it means living out a few days in pain. They don’t shirk away from the hard things simply because they are hard. They know, as a friend of mine said, that courageous people take risks.
When the pain becomes too much, when the risk becomes too great, when the difficulties oppress the delight, there is no shame in saying, “I can’t do it anymore.”
Do you know what the worst day of my life, thus far, has been? The day my first (and last) boyfriend and I broke up. We have some wonderful memories from the months that we were dating, and have a very healthy friendship now. Despite those things, that day still haunts me. I have nightmares that don’t involve vampires or being chased, but instead involve sitting on my bed and trying to find the right words to say. Even now, well over a year later, I sometimes have to pull the car over when certain songs come on the radio. It was the worst day because I will always wonder what I could have done to change it. But even if I had the chance, I would never erase that memory. It was real, something to cherish. We had a real conversation. We spoke to each other about how much we loved each other, how the only thing that mattered was whether or not we were happy, and how we could continue to care when we decided that our relationship was over.
These “What-Ifs” and “Could Have Beens”– all based on the ideas swirling around in my head, the fears that I’ve had all along, the words that were left unsaid– will never, ever compare to that real conversation, and I’m really sorry that we will never be able to experience that.
I am. I’m sorry. I started writing this while seeing red, mostly because the “moment of truth” for our situation is truly right now. But I’m not angry anymore. I probably will be again, but at this second, I just feel sad. We missed out on some beautiful opportunities to grow.
I am getting one of those opportunities right now, to let him go and remember that no matter what, I still only want him to be happy.
If you’re still reading this far, it’s probably getting a little too “Nicholas Sparks.” I hate Nicholas Sparks. But Channing Tatum is in the new movie, so I might go see it anyway. In the mean time, I’m letting this one go.
The jokes and life plans will be back next week. Have a good weekend. And to one person out there, without an ounce of sarcasm or snark, I sincerely do hope you have a good life.