Saturday, December 6, 2014
The Heart Broke
So tonight is the night that I finally sit down, take a breather, and write a little. Reflect and share with whoever decides to read my words.
I’ve taken a long time to update my blog. The last year has been…well, “hard” would be an understatement. I moved to Chicago. Fallen out of love with Cole (see last blog on the Cole story), fell back in love with him, was heartbroken by him, and now I’m on this crooked and wayward journey to healing. Not really sure where I stand right now and some days I’m unsure of who I am anymore. Honestly, the only thing I identify with is brokenness – honestly. There are times where I believe I may eventually be ok, but there are times I feel like my heart is beyond repair. There are layers to these feelings.
So, here’s the story:
I never stopped missing Cole. I struggled to forget him. I tried making a place for him that was outside of my heart. I failed.
Last fall, in midst of trying to move on, I learned that my sister was in a relationship with a married man. Now, this confused the hell out of me because their relationship seemed to be flourishing. And I couldn’t wrap my head around why it seem as if her relationship was being blessed when there was no evidence of conviction in her spirit where I had desperately tried doing ‘what was right’ and it didn’t turn out in my favor. So, throughout the following winter, I crawled my way through letting Cole go. I began to go back and forth on what was right and wrong morally. I remember praying for strength so much regardless of what I was seeing around me. I tried building support through girlfriends, church, but nothing was keeping me away.
In July, shortly before a trip back home to Georgia, I found out Cole was getting a divorce. This is it, I thought. We can finally be together. I didn’t have to fight to stay away anymore. I could kiss him now without guilt. And we could make love. And we could be in love. So there he was in my life again. This time, without restrictions. And for several weeks, it was beautiful. I was happy that love was coming my way. The Lord was giving me what I wanted. No more resentment towards my sister’s relationship. I was in a happy place.
Before coming to Georgia, Cole and I spoke on the phone for several hours each day. Like a high school couple. And we made plans for the summer and for his birthday in August. I had a lot I was looking forward to.
The summer was going to be busy. My mom was planning to have an extensive back surgery, so most of my time back home was going to be filled with taking care of her. Well, on the day of her surgery (2nd day of me being home), her last living brother passed away. So, not only am I dealing with helping my mom heal physically, but now, I have to be there for her to heal emotionally of losing another sibling and not being able to go to his funeral – all while taking two 6 credit classes during my last year of college.
Meanwhile, Cole and I connect. He comes over. And the relief of seeing him, and simply being able to touch and hug him without regard of who’s around was heaven for me. We did everything we wanted to. We did everything we’d been waiting to do for almost two years. But…..
Are you ready?
It all fell flat. All of it. The love. The sex. The timing. As soon as we slept together, things immediately took a turn for the worst. And my emotions went completely haywire. There is no one reason. Simply put, he wasn’t ready. That’s the only way I can sum it all up. I think he was embarrassed because the sex was not as great as expected. Nowhere near how we'd imagined. I think he had an epitome that we’d just moved way too fast, way too soon. Cole expressed that he wanted to slow down – to the point that we’d not talk on the phone as much. I became insecure because, I don’t know, maybe because I’d just slept with him (<-sarcasm). In reluctant agreement, I said ok – only to see weeks later he’d began talking on the phone with another woman for hours at a time in a friendship that didn’t look strictly platonic.
Needless to say, I went ballistic. Not to the point of cutting him or scratching his car. But I damn sure wanted to. He denied it but the proof was right in my face. So for weeks, I raised hell with him. Expressing my feelings and hurt, hitting below the belt at times. The communication was rough. It was hard to have a simple conversation with him. It was clear that he no longer wanted me around. We saw each other before I left. We fooled around, and still afterwards, he was not interested in talking again. This was the moment I felt degraded. I had just (you know), all to satisfy him…and my feelings were dismissed.
But there I was still fighting for something that had withered away. In spite of my feelings, I still bought him birthday gift, wrote him a letter, and sent it all off to him before coming back to Chicago. We spoke a few times when I got back home. Always me calling him, never the other way around. In our last conversation, I asked if we could get back to communicating on the regular basis because I needed him – even as a friend. I wanted him to consider how I’d been there for him, even when I knew it was best not to be. But he said no. I asked if we could revisit the relationship status, and he wasn’t feeling it.
Cole was a stranger to me now. All the time I’d loved him. Sacrificed my emotional well being to be there for him – none of it matter to him. My heart was on the floor. All the prayers had seemed to fall on deaf ears of God. The level of rejection I felt was at the highest level. I felt thrown away, unwanted, dismissed, and not worth shit.
I finally decided to stop embarrassing myself and begin to let go. For four months, I cried every single day for several times a day. I was filled with anger, regret, and confusion. Everyone around me had let me down. The friends I depended on were m.i.a. The One I prayed to for strength seemed to disappear. And the man I loved, didn’t love me back. Soon after, my sister and her newly divorced boo were now married. This only added to the heartbreak.
I was alone and depressed. It had been so long since I’d been in love and in a longterm relationship that I realized that I held on to Cole so tightly partly because I wanted to somehow prove to myself that I was normal. That I was desirable and that there was at least one man out there that wanted me.
I was in a bad place. I try not to play the blame game. I was unwise dealing with him in so many ways. I ignored the warning signs because I was in love. I always saw the best in him saw the worst through my rose colored glasses. I’d like to think that I’m on the tail end of this current sadness. But I don’t know. All I do know is that I’m searching for healing. I’m looking to be complete and whole. Not a façade of it. And I can only hope that the next time I write, I’ll be in that place – that happy place I’m so desperate for. Single or in love, as long as my worth has been replenished and my soul has been renewed. That’s all I really long for.
Until next time.