It’s about to get serious up in hurr, so I offer the following picture to ease you into it. You’re welcome.
What with all the hair dyeing, binge drinking, cupcake face-stuffery, and vague allusions, you may have surmised that things have been a little off with me lately. Well, you would be correct. I’ve been trying to wait, take a breath, and let my most volatile feelings about the situation subside before tackling it on the interwebs, but in the end I figure, hey, it’s my blog and I can cry if I want to.
You are probably well-aware of the fact that I am a rather, er, emotionally charged person. I just have a lot of feelings. And while I don’t want to rant, rave, or divulge too much for fear of any libelous/slanderous/true accusations I’ve put forth on the interwebs coming back to bite me in the ass, this blog is about my life. And this has been a significant part of it, so here it is.
A week ago, my relationship with my boyfriend of almost three years ended. I wasn’t blindsided. We both knew that things hadn’t been great for a while. But for whatever reason, call it optimism or merely naïveté, I still had hope. I thought we were worth saving, and I still wanted to try. Unfortunately, as many cliché sayings and rom-coms have taught me, it takes two to tango. And ultimately it just wasn’t enough.
I have a lot of mixed emotions wrapped up in this breakup. After all, three years is a substantial chunk of my life! Right at this moment, it’s difficult for me not to feel like it’s time that’s been wasted. Objectively, I know that’s not true. I know that I’ve grown because of this relationship, that I’ve learned things about myself that I might not have otherwise. Objectively, I understand what’s happened. I even get why it had to happen. But the thing is — and it may shock you to learn this — I’m really not a very objective person. So I’m hurt, and I’m sad, and most of all I am angry. Not so much at why it ended (I know that there is plenty of blame to go on both our shoulders), but I’m angry at HOW it ended. At the way it was handled, at what’s happened since.
The sadness, I can deal with. I’m handling the hurt, the blows dealt to my self-esteem, the loss of a friend. But the anger? I don’t really know how to deal with this. I’m not asking for a justification or rationalization of my feelings. I know I’m allowed to–no, entitled to feel this way. But it’s still just a lot to handle, even for someone who runs the gamut of her emotions as frequently as I do.
In the meantime, I’m trying to keep busy. I’m attempting to divert the self-pity and rage with a full schedule, and it does help. I have plenty of emo songs queued up on Spotify, and that helps too. I’m also taking solace in the fact that for once in my life, I’m not turning to food to soften the blow (wine, on the other hand…)
I know this isn’t the end of the world. I know that I’m young, that I have lots of life left to live and plenty more heartbreak to endure (oh, goody.) But this was my first real, serious, committed relationship, and it’s over. That sucks. The fact of the matter is that breakups are hard. I don’t know if some of you are questioning my decision to broadcast this so openly on the blog, but I needed to. This is me, after all. I needed to chronicle this chapter of my life coming to a close.
So we mourn, and eventually, we move on.