Path to recover from a break up — embrace emotions.
Sitting at work, drinking coffee. Only for it’s taste. Tried cigarette. Doesn’t give an edge. Alcohol? Same. Just temporary brain-switch off. It’s been three months since we broke up. A true love, the first love. People make emotional and rational decisions. When it came to her, I mostly made emotional ones. Pure feelings but dangerous in the long run. Was it an addiction? Still don’t know. But I don’t regret a single thing. Because this is how I learned many things about myself. This why I am who I am. This is one of those experiences that build you the most I guess. Deciding that you won’t meet her again, so you don’t cause soreness to each other. Responsible choices. To be able to appreciate yourself.
It took a huge slap in the face. But I’ll never make the same mistakes. Like not talking about what bothers me — call it avoiding conflicts. (Just as my father does.) Suppressing negative thoughts is hazardous. For both of us. We realized it too late that we caused pain to ourselves. How can we love each other if we can’t love ourselves? Painful lessons.
I miss the fun, I miss the talks, I miss her voice, I miss her touch. Memories that were joyful once, turned to painful ones. Can I ever love someone as much? I feel like I will. There was a memorable dialog in Her (2013):
Theodore: I’ve never loved anyone the way I loved you.
Samantha: Me too. Now we know how.
Life is about constant changes. Some changes are as small as a bus schedule change, and some are as huge as a break up with the one you love. If we don’t learn to adapt, we will live in the past and wonder about how much better it was in the past. That way we don’t give us the chance to experience the joyous moments of today. When she comes into my mind I don’t distract myself with music or facebook or video games or tv (used to though). Embrace pain. Meditate. Be alone with your thoughts. I open the door for my emotions (It’s damn hard to keep that door open, I know that. Your defensive self is like an air blow that is trying to slam the door constantly to keep feelings out). I cried a lot. I was furious sometime. And mournful. And hopeless. And devastated. And confused. But living these moments are of substantial importance in the learning of letting go.
And now the memories are turning back to good ones. I am still not healed. But hey, first I had to learn how to be a good surgeon to stitch myself up properly.
A stitch in time saves nine.
Speaking of numbers, I have to get back to work.