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[howisthatevenpossible]

How Dear You

What hurts the most is the “I love you” or small act of kindness after. Yes, worse than the disrespect or verbal abuse.

How dear you?

How dear assume that no apology is needed. Especially in situations where an apology would not even suffice. How dear you assume that I would just let it go and be receptive ? This hurts more than the act itself because it shows just little you think of me. Just how weak you know me to be.

What a smack in the face.

[howisthatevenpossible]

My last relationship taught me that my needs and desires from a partner are just as important as theirs from me. For too long I approached relationships as try outs, hoping to earn a spot in someone else’s world. It’s time they try out for a spot in mine.

[howisthatevenpossible]

Numb

I am not afraid of losing you. I am afraid of the memories disappearing without anyone to remind me they ever existed. All those happy moments gone upon your departure… how awful. I want to be able to at least miss them, the better times. I want to feel them, even if only during moments of retrospection. You leaving prevents that. So I’m begging you, please stay.

[howisthatevenpossible]

Hollow

Night's like these, I realize its me

This deep guttural sadness is mine and mine alone. It's convenient to blame them but I know they’ve had fuck all to do with it. This has lived with me forever. Sometimes people come along and distract me from its presence but its always there. Just less palpable. I can always trust that when things go awry it’ll engulf me. Claiming me.

And they wonder why I cling so hard and hang on so long. It’s because I despise what comes next.

[howisthatevenpossible]

I hope every hurting heart finds a gentle place to rest tonight. you are as loved as dawn. as beautiful as rain. you were meant to happen this way.

[howisthatevenpossible]

A Mother’s Heavy Heart

When she was born no one noticed the large fissure running down the center of her chest.

She was birthed by a sad woman. A deeply sad woman who had very little understanding of familial love or self-love. A woman who had experienced heart break, betrayal, and devastation throughout the entirety of her life. The woman herself will tell you that out of the three, this pregnancy was the most depressing. Something about a lover turning into your worst enemy can really break a person, especially during such a vulnerable time.

My executioner, once my lover, taunts me with the threat of ending things

That sadness was transferred from the woman’s heart directly to the little one’s chest. Any trace of confidence and self-love was decimated before it could even form.

Did I tell you that the rupture was invisble? Well at-least to most. A select few could see the crack. Sadly, they often did not have pure motives in pursuing her. That fissure meant she could be manipulated and used.

It’s speculated that those who can see the crack are distant kin of the man who broke her mother’s heart. Distant but close enough.

[howisthatevenpossible]

Please help me understand

It hurts

The thought of you starting over. Buying her flowers, telling her how much she means to you, wrapping her in our blanket and pulling her closer to you. How could you?

[howisthatevenpossible]

Mine

I thought you were mine You said you were mine How could I be so foolish

[howisthatevenpossible]

Grateful

He said he wasn’t emotionally intelligent enough to be with me after repeated arguments centered around his inability to provide the comfort and reassurance I need. No, I wasn’t being overly needy or sensitive. He would say and do (albeit unintentionally) some hurtful things that made me sad. When I would express how I felt, I was told I was right for feeling that way and that he understood. However, he made no move to hug me, rub my back, or tell me the sweet nothings I got so accustomed to hearing in the beginning. He was like a robot when I cried (which only happened 3x within the 3 months of us dating). He would stare at me and repeat “why are you crying” while I struggled to fight my tears and find the words to explain how emotions work to him. I think he was so used to bottling how he feels and not allowing people to see him vulnerable that he was confused and possibly disgusted at my willingness to let my feelings run rampant.

I knew this wouldn’t work. I’ve always been a sensitive person who feels deeply and isn’t afraid to put those feelings on display. Not for sympathy but because I know the value of letting myself feel. The alternative of hiding them or bottling them up never made sense to me. I don’t see any benefit. I let myself cry for Me. I tell people how they hurt me for Me. I wear my emotions on my face because I know the effort to hide them will only hurt me further. Stifling tears and not speaking up would be a disservice to myself. So why did I stay after the first time my feelings were confronted with a cold shoulder?

At first I loved him because I knew he loved me. I needed to feel loved so bad. Then I grew an attachment and I truly did love him. Now I know love built on that foundation could never last. I didn’t see him for who he truly was, only for this feeling he was able to give me. I was satiated and grateful.

[howisthatevenpossible]

wrong

I see where this is heading and baby I am terrified Terrified to the point I'm thinking of ending things here So in love that I know I won't When this is over I'll be in a million pieces I knew that was a possibility, but the method of repair always seemed so clear Now I can't see it and I'm terrified I chose to walk into the demolition room I thought I properly prepared since last time and now knew all the exits To face my own incompetence is another heartbreak on its own Baby, I'm so scared That relief you provided has been replaced by anxiety A visible noose is around my neck My executioner, once my lover, taunts me with the threat of ending things

[howisthatevenpossible]

May Sarton, from Journal of a Solitude [ID in alt text]

[howisthatevenpossible]

I think I love him because I need him to love me. I need to know there’s a man out there capable of loving me the way they could not.

So when he was playing around and sent those 3 words, my heart stopped and my mouth got dry. I wanted to cry because I wanted so bad to believe him. Then something triggered in me and I made the choice to believe him. So I said it when we weren’t joking because I knew he would say it back.

What a sick joke

[howisthatevenpossible]

People that love you, care about how they make you feel.

[howisthatevenpossible]

I still love him but I can no longer hate him. It just takes up too much space.

[howisthatevenpossible]

My first and most monumental heartbreaks were at the hands of my father and older brother. Both made feel tiny but in different ways. When I thought of my father, I felt so small, almost undetectable. However, my brother made me feel like a mouse scurrying around while searching the sky, praying I wouldn’t be swiped up.

What makes these heartbreaks so profound is that there was no escaping them. It wasn’t as simple as blocking them or refusing to see them. I couldn’t ignore the blood pumping through me and my brother wouldn’t be thrown to the streets simply for my comfort. So I had to endure. And that I did. But I’m afraid it cost me more than I can replenish.

[howisthatevenpossible]

But what if I don’t like how this new version of myself is received

[howisthatevenpossible]

Unspoken lessons from a broken mother

We laid in their bed after he had stormed out. Her eyes still red and swollen, she looked over at me confused. Of course I was still going to school the next day. Whether she was aware or not, my mother taught me that trauma was insignificant and therefore unworthy of reflection or soothing. It just was not enough.

Only a weak person allows negative feelings to still them. A strong person buries those feelings and carries on.

So I went to school.