The Funny Thing About Love

I will start this out with a straight up fact: My boyfriend and I broke up this weekend and the last two hours has been the longest that I have gone without crying since about 10pm on Saturday. I also doubt that I will make it through this post without wrecking that "record". Further, I caution against anybody trying to understand the details of what it is that I am trying to convey in this post. This is my current process and, like all the rest, it is convoluted and difficult to traverse.

The funny thing about love is that real love is not selfish. The reality of loving another person in the fashion that we should all aspire to do is to cherish them on a level that goes beyond your own realm of existence and carries on into theirs, even when your part has been played out. This kind of love is referred to as agape. I do not mean the Christian interpretation of agape. I mean the interpretation of agape from the humanistic and universal lens. Essentially, agape is to love someone on a level that goes beyond reciprocal and selfish love. It is to desire that which is best for another, not that which is best for you. It is to understand another's humanity and to value that in a selfless way. Agape is self-sacrificing and all encompassing. It does not have stipulations. It does not have conditions. It does not have limits. It is unconditional. Yet, it goes beyond the physical connection with another person. It is something that extends on the dimension of time, not space.

This is the love that I have always aspired to experience.

It is not easy to navigate the complexities and travesties of life. I have been beaten down to a cowering pulp by circumstances. I am who I am today because I did not stay on the ground. I chose to stand up. I chose to open my eyes to the outside and to the inside. It was not an easy choice. It is a hard choice. It is a choice that I continue to make every single day. Why?

Because I am more authentic today than I have been at any other point in my life.

I still feel pain. Unimaginable pain. I still cry. I still wonder how the hell I will make it. I still question myself. Yet, I allow that pain to be curative, not toxic.

The pain that I am feeling now was previously beyond my realm of imagination. Six months ago, I did not believe that it was possible for me to ever allow somebody in to where it would hurt me if they left. I did not think that such a person existed who was worthy of that effort. I now know that I was wrong. I also don't regret it.

I am so happy that I can feel again. I am so happy that I am not as trampled as I was before. I am so proud of myself for how I have handled almost every aspect of this relationship. I have been true to myself from start to finish. It may have been strong. It may have been overly fearful at times. Yet, that was my process. That was what I needed to do. I needed to experience mutual respect.

That is exactly what I have experienced. On a level that I really did not think was possible; but always had hope that it was. In so many ways, this relationship has been an affirmation for me. It is sad that it will not remain within the context that it has. Yet, I think that it is still in the context that it needs to be in order to maintain that respect and compassion.

A year ago, if this had happened, I would have been raging. I would have been a seething ball of anger and rejection and self-depreciation. Today, I am in pain. I am grieving. I am also rejoicing. Well, maybe rejoicing is a bit strong. However, I am able to move beyond my own insecurities and understand someone else. I am able to recognize that it is not about me. It isn't really about us either. It is about life. It is about its ceaseless challenges and adversities.

I do not know how I will handle the coming weeks or months. I know that I will need a lot of space to grieve. I will need to give him the ability to do what it is that he needs to do. I don't think that will be as hard for me as it has been in the past. He did what was right. He is a good man. I am not the least bit angry or disgruntled. How can I be?

He did what I have asked every other man to do. They were all too weak and too cowardly. They could not love me enough to put my well being or their well being ahead of their wants. He could. That is how he is different. It gives me a lot of hope. Not necessarily for us, but for the gender on a whole.

I was such a cynic. I was a man hater. I was without compassion for the emotions of the male species. I actually didn't even recognize them as legitimate or even capable of being expressed. This process has shown me that I was wrong. I am not opposed to being proven wrong. It just doesn't happen very often. It took this series of events to show me that I was.

I didn't really believe in love. Not literally. Not rationally. I clung to it. I clung to it like a child clings to their mother's leg for safety. I needed to believe in it. Yet, I had never been given evidence of its existence. Not in my whole life.

My parents were miserable together. They loved each other in this sick and debilitating way. My mother stayed because she was too weak to be on her own. My father stayed because he could not bear to watch her flounder or my sister wail. My parents fought. My mother griped. My father drank just to smile or disappeared. My mother played on my father's emotions with my sister's and mine. We were pawns in their broken affair. They spent years in different bedrooms. That was what love was to me as a child. It was nothing that I wanted. It was awful and dramatic and without warmth. It was a farce. Everything was a farce to me because of that experience. It took until I went through it on my own to have true compassion for my father. I never understood why he waited until I had to go through it.

I entered middle school and high school as my parents' sham of a marriage reached its breaking point. I remember telling my friends "I never want to get married. It's a bunch of bullshit. I just want to have a career and adopt a baby once I have time". Then, when the split happened, I ran to the first person who would open their arms to me. I dug my nails in. I wanted to prove to anyone that I could that I was not my mother. That I would not abandon them that I would not mistreat them or neglect them.

Unfortunately, I ran into the wrong arms and I ended up getting mistreated and neglected. I then went to someone who wanted to prove to himself that he could be a good man, because his father had not been. He tried; but he was not equipped to help me. He had not yet helped him self. We clung to each other and it became a farce. It became rancid with bitterness and hatred. There was still passion; but, it was not real. It was not deep. It did not permeate. I didn't give much of a shit about what made him happy and he didn't give much of a shit about what made me happy. We were ambivalent about each other's needs. Then, we had a child. Well.... fuck.

We promised each other that we would not do what our parents had done. We promised that we would stick it out and do what was right for our baby. Unfortunately, we were also 21 and naive. He kept fucking up and I kept trying to forgive him. My emotions kept getting pushed down. Deeper and deeper until I felt nothing. The only thing that I really felt was joy when I saw my daughter smiling. I kept trying and trying because I could not get that look of joy on her face when her father and I held her hand out of my mind. Then, I looked in the mirror and I saw the ever present frown on my own. I saw myself beginning to spiral. I saw myself getting bitter and weak and nasty, just like my mother had been. I didn't want that for my daughter. So, I rallied my faith in love and I left.

I told myself that love was real. I told myself that I needed to have faith. That I needed to believe that there was something better out there for me to show my daughter. That I did not want her to struggle with the same doubts that I did. I told myself that even if I did not find love with someone else, then I would at least be able to show her how to love herself.

I have held that faith close to my chest for the last year. I have struggled through almost a year of a custody dispute. Of watching my daughter cry every time she had to go back and forth. Of watching her cling to her Daddy when I had to take her home or cling to her Mommy when I had to drop her off. I watch her throw tantrums. I watch her go through so much pain and difficulty in the process. It breaks me every single day. Yet, I promise myself that it will be over soon and then I will be able to show her everything that she needs to see. I promise myself that I will never make an easy choice; because I never want her to. I left her father because the thought of my daughter staying with that kind of man for the same reasons that I was made me want to vomit.

It was the best decision that I ever made. I have questioned it close to every day. I have wanted to go back on it. Yet, I had faith in myself. I had faith in my daughter. I believe that I can show her something more than what my mother showed me. So, I have conquered my fears and I have faced down every challenge that I have met with as much dignity and grace as I can muster.

All but one.

I did not face love.


The one thing that I felt was most important to show her was the one thing that I kept hiding from. I was so afraid. I was so cynical and skeptical. I went on dates. I had one night stands. I tried what I could bear myself to try. Yet, none of it was brave. None of it involved any risk. It was not satisfying and it was not what I would have wanted to see her doing. Unfortunately, nobody had presented themselves as a potential partner for which I would have tried.

I was beginning to wonder if I was wrong. I was beginning to wonder if I had made a mistake. I was beginning to think that I was right as a child. That there was no loving another person. That it was all about convenience and circumstance. I even tried to work things out with her father one last time. After close to six months of struggling, I caved and tried for another month. I tried to convince myself that it was the right thing. That I had been selfish. Thankfully, I realized that it was the trial period that was the mistake and not the separation. It took him hurting me in a way that I hadn't thought he would for me to remember that it wasn't what I wanted.

I said fuck it. I said that I could do it. I said that I would stick my nose in my books and Parents magazine for the next 4 years. That I would not fuss about love. That I would maintain my fatith; but, I would not ask for proof. I would do what I had to do.

Then, I got struck by lightning.

I met this man that blew my mind. Everything about him was so wonderful. In many ways, it still is. I decided to give it a shot. To try. Try to get myself proof that it was possible to actually care about someone and put their well being ahead of your own. To believe that there was someone out there worthy of my trust.

I got my proof.

I also got my heart broken and my trust annihilated yet again. I am grateful in some respects for the way that he handled it. I wish that he would have explained it more so that I could have some more closure; but, I am grateful to my therapist for helping me to get some on my own. That isn't necessarily his responsibility in the first place. I do not begrudge him or hate him or even love him any less than I did on Friday. In some ways, it is more. In some ways, he opened up to me more in this process than he did in the last 4 months.

I am fighting off the feelings that I am not good enough. That if I had been good enough, then he would have fought for me. That if it was right, then we would be together. I am trying not to say that it was because I was somehow broken. That I was messed up or my baggage was too much for him. That I was too intense and too demanding. In some respects, I was; but, that is who I am. He would not change that about me. I would not change who he is, either.

I am infuriated in many ways over the exact context of the situation. It plays off of a lot of insecurities. Sex has always been an area of confusion for me. I have never understood the desire for adventure in that realm. Aversion to boredom, I understand; but adventure is unnecessary for me. It makes me angry that I am not satisfying enough in that realm. I know that isn't really it; but I can't help but to feel that way on a certain level. One that I know is wrong; but that I must acknowledge.

There is no way for me to not be upset and hurt and angered by this situation. I don't hold it against it but there is no dismissing it or excusing it. There is a fine line. Just because I have compassion for him and his experiences does not mean that I can overlook it when it comes to my own feelings about the situation. I can't. I would hope that I can forgive him if he ever wanted to try this again; but, I can't predict how I would feel 6 weeks, 6 months, or a few years down the road.

I know that I am grateful for him having the nerve to be honest with me; but that doesn't change what he was honest about. I know that I want to try and be his friend; but I don't know if I will be able to handle that. I don't know if I can sit next to him again and not want to grab his hand or slap his face. Two extreme options, from two extreme feelings. Love and compassion versus hurt and rejection.

It hurts that he still cares about me. It hurts that I know I would have fought tooth and nail for him if the roles had been reversed. That it feels like he just dismissed me and the way that he says he feels about me. Not just says, shows; because he doesn't necessarily say it so much as he radiates. Another thing that hurts. That feeling. That electric, all consuming, gut wrenching, heart warming, distinct feeling that envelopes me whenever I got close enough to him. Losing that feeling alone is enough to make me want to curl up in a ball.

Losing the man that is attached to that feeling hurts far more.

Yet, I know that I will be ok. I have made it through this whole novella of a process without crying. I have already begun to nurse my wounds. The pain will dissipate and in a few weeks or at most a few months I will be ok. The desperation will be gone and the resilience will be bolstered.

It is just another step on my journey. He has shown me so much. I know so much more now than I did 4 months ago. About myself. About other people. About my abilities.

I wish it hadn't ended. I don't want the story to be over. Yet, I can't hold out for a to be continued...


I talked to my sister yesterday. By talked, I mean that I cried and screamed into the phone for about 20 minutes repeating "It just hurts. It hurts so much. It isn't fair. It isn't fair. What is wrong with me? What did I do? Why am I not enough? I know he loves me. I know he cares. Why? Why? Just WHY???". Until she finally told me to stop hyperventilating and listen to her.

I begrudgingly obliged her. 

She pointed out to me that I have enough on my plate. That I have a daughter and I a job hunt and the beginnings of a master's program and a career. That I have enough to keep me occupied on my own for the next two years minimum. That I need to focus on building friendships and networking and my daughter. That I am not ready to be with someone and that I am not in a place where that needs to be a priority. That it is a good thing for me to just be on my own for a while. That I shouldn't date. That I shouldn't look. That I should accept this break-up as a break from that aspect of life for a while. That it is ok for me to be alone.

I hate it when she is right.


I don't want to feel like I am waiting. I don't want to feel like I am hoping that he will come back and say that it was all a mistake. I mean obviously there are a plethora of fairy tale scenarios playing out in my head. I have a vagina. It kind of works that way. Thankfully, I also have a mind.

Sure, it would be great if the next year flew by and I had established my friend base and worked out my issues and he had gotten his shit sorted out and we ran into each other at a coffee shop; but, I am not going to cling to that idea. I am not going to do all of this for him. Just like I didn't do everything else I have done for other people.

I have done it for me. I have done it so that I am the best version of myself that I can possibly be. I push myself. I tear myself apart and I rebuild. I claw up a mountain. I get myself to standing. I fall in a pit. I crawl out of the pit and I get to higher ground. I will keep doing that. Every. Single. Day.

Because that is who I am.

I am a fighter. I am stronger and hardier than most people will ever be. I am not perfect. I still have areas where I must improve; but I am not flawed. I am not broken. I have seen to that. I have tested my limits and I have broken through them. I am not afraid of much of anything anymore. Life will not break me. Not very easily. If I was going to lose my shit, it would have happened already.

I will not be looking for a man. I will not be receptive to the gentleman that has been chit chatting with me for the last 45 mins. He is a nice guy. Unfortunately, I am not really interested in grabbing a coffee with anybody who has a penis for a while. Unless it is my gay man or a mentor or a potential boss.

Primarily because I do not want to risk meeting someone else right now. My sister is right. I have too much to work out on my own. It has little to do with my ex. I mean it has something to do with it; but, it has more to do with me. I was already in this phase when I met him. I broke my rules for him. I gave him a chance. I wouldn't say that he squandered his. He just reminded me why I was doing what I was doing in the first place. So, I will go back to doing that for a while.

I haven't really spent much time thinking about what I would do if he actually did say he made a mistake. I would rather focus on the more likely eventualities that would befall me in the coming weeks. Like getting hit by a giant hail stone. However, I don't know that my trust in him is still withstanding. I haven't gotten far enough in this. I don't really know how I would react. I know how I would want to, I just don't know how I really feel about this hurt and how it would impact a re-do.

I guess there wouldn't be a "re-do". There would be a "must-do".

That is another thing for which I am grateful to him. At least now I know what it is that I really want out of a relationship. He showed me a lot of that. Regardless of whether or not he gave it. He showed it. I am grateful for that. I am also grateful for my ability to show him what I needed.

I am hurting. I am feeling alone. I am wondering if I will be ok. Thankfully, I know that I will. I am just human enough to feel that I am not right now. I am so grateful for that.

Few people can appreciate how wonderful it is to feel pain after feeling nothing. I am glad that I got to experience joy in between. I am grateful for so many wonderful memories that I will not push from my mind. I am grateful for this kind of companionship and honesty. I just wish that the timing was a little bit better.

Deep Breaths.