Heartbreak & Sacrifice

Right now I’m blindly working through it all. I met this great guy. He was surprisingly perfect* - at least at first. I met him because I talked to him with empathy and advised him about getting out of a bad relationship – just like the psychic [Edit 6/13/12: this one] had said. But it turns out, I was just helping him more than anything.

***

Yesterday, I wrote: My heart is piercing – with each breath I expel, I wonder when it gets easier.

Somewhere in the middle of feeling like if was meant to be, he would have just fought for me, and understanding we’re all just still trying to find our way – and I guess sometimes you have to do that alone.

***

I met him and we quickly started dating with an unflinching ferocity. He expressed a “connection” that I questioned was maybe just that fact that he just broke up with his (live-in) girlfriend of 2.5 years – which he declined, expressing he had already considered that and decided “no”. So I told him of the psychic that said I would meet my next great love because I would help them out of a bad relationship – something I normally would keep to myself, but I thought “well hell, he started it”. So I ignored my own advice to him that maybe he needed some time to himself after her, because the psychic!, I thought. It went fast. Too fast. Warp speed for me. But I deserved it, finally, all my friends told me. And I agreed – so I let him pursue me and I invited him into my life.
 

The first couple of months were great; fast, but wonderful. Somewhere into January, I started to panic. Something was off. I started to try to fix it. I got scared. I talked to my mom; she told me to not be afraid. So, in an attempt to learn from past relationships/mistakes/non-relationships, I expressed to him what I needed, thinking still – he’s just a guy, he doesn’t know. But the distance grew and I came to realize all the things I was trying to fix; all the things I thought I was doing wrong; all the panic and mind consumption that had begun when the new year had started, wasn’t me --- it was him*.

I figured it out. It was too fast for me, but I could slow down. I thought I could do it alone, but his distance just grew. The pursuit was gone. The everything that changed consumed my mind and made me not myself. (Something I remembered I wasn't willing to do.) There was something going on with him - the reservations grew. And the energy I felt from that affected us both. And I couldn't ignore it. 

On a Tuesday, I saw him and leaving asked, “Do you think we should see less of each other?” He asked if it would be a conversation, so to escape the cold, we got in my car and talked for four hours. At first, he said he needed to go find himself; he didn't think we'd be able to just back up a little with how fast things had gone before. Then we talked more and decided we’d just slow it down: We both agreed it had gone quite fast.

My mind was consumed for days. I began to worry about if that was the right decision. I started to seek advice. Learning from my past, I talked through it with friends. People told me just to give it time, but after hours of talking and thinking, I came to find myself writing a note on my phone at the gym on Thursday night – somewhere between selflessness and self-preservation. Three days pass to Sunday. The universe speaks to me as things begin to all go wrong again – something I’ve come to pay much attention to: When chaos and mistakes begin to manifest in multitudes, something in my life needs to change. I knew what it was.

I asked him to meet with me on Sunday. I thought the passing hours would ensure my decision was the right one. They didn’t. When he came over, I learned of something that bold-typed the point that his past was still haunting him – and affecting me: I guess that was the world’s nod of approval. I mentioned something to the effect of his going back to "finding himself" instead of "taking it slow", and he said it had only been five days - we hadn't even seen how it would go yet. But I knew it; as much as I didn't want to lose him - or the bond we'd built or the falling that had begun - I knew he needed the time I'd suggested from the start, to get his heart back together again -- alone. I've been there.

I handed him what I had written at the gym. A note to say, in very short: If it is time he needs, here it is. Maybe I’ll be waiting. Maybe I’ll move on. I’m not giving up; I’m starting over. I need to live my life and he needs to find whatever it is he’s looking for. Ending: I have no hope for us. I can’t or I couldn’t let go. He finished reading as asked me if that’s still how I felt. NO! I wanted to scream. PLEASE FIGHT FOR ME! This is right! I know you can’t see it; I know your past is haunting you, but no! Losing you is the last thing I want!

Instead, I said “I don’t know”. I couldn’t say anything else. And I couldn’t say what the note said without writing it because I wouldn’t have been able to get the words out. My heart would have choked them into my chest. He waited for a while and said, “I think you’re right.” And then my heart immediately fell out of my butt and I asked him to leave because that was embarrassing.

Just kidding. I cried. Everyone cried.

I didn’t understand why he was so upset if it was what he wanted. Why am I doing something that’s making everyone so sad? With that confusion, we talked for hours and I asked so many “why’s” that he got frustrated and said “THIS IS WHAT I NEED!”, to which I slapped the bed to stop his stupid notion and remind him that I was the one that told him to go – how fucking dumb would I be to tell him to do one thing, then sit there and try to talk him out of it!? No, sir. I know this is what you need. I’m aware. It rips my heart out and I just need some answers so I know how to process it. Just because I’m losing what I want to give you what you need, doesn’t mean it makes it any god-damned easier, does it?!

That’s rhetorical; but in case you weren’t sure, it doesn’t.

Eventually, it was time for him to leave. We hugged forever. It felt like forever. Or maybe I wish it felt like forever. He put on his coat and I grabbed him to hug him again – into his chest my sad little heart admitted: “I can only let go because I have hope you’ll come back to me”.

“I like that,” he lightly spoke.

He walked to the door and opened it. I left my position from where I’d just held his embrace, walked to the door and closed it, then kissed him. He kissed me back. And again. “Please come back to me,” I whispered, utterly heartfelt and heartbroken, as kissed him as hard as my emotions felt. When I pulled back from him, an enormous tear fell from his left cheek and I instinctively wiped it with my thumb as he stepped out the door.

Confused. I’m left heartbroken. I’m left with hope in the air and wondering what to do with it.

I went upstairs after I locked the door behind him, turned back on the tv and the first noise to come out of the television were the words: “It’s not over yet”.

That seems like a mean joke, Universe. That or I can't decide if it's speaking to me (and my lingering hope). Like the number three: All I could think of, the times he said "this is what I need" was the number three.. The following day, a friend responded to a status I had: I let go...and it hurts like hell, saying it sounded like we were in the same place and it turns out they are completely paralleling events - only he was the guy who needed space and it took him months to realize the girl was who he wanted, once he'd recovered from his 2.5 year relationship -- and now she's unsure, and taken. "How many months did it take you," I asked.

 "Three."

Confusing universe aside, at moments, I’m okay; others I've felt I'm falling apart; it feels a lot like mourning. Its hard to not exist to someone who meant so much to you in such a short time. I just hope he realizes this isn’t want I wanted; just the sacrifice he needed. (The most adult decision I feel I've ever made.) Someday, my love will come [back?]. For now, I’m trying to pull myself back together; to be ready when ready is ready (for whomever and whenever that means) - though I don't know how much more my heart can take. To focus on me again, as I was the happiest (alone) I had ever been before him. But first, while holding back my tears and trying figure out how to process it all, I'm in the current state of deciding what to do with my hope. Because hope is a powerful thing.

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