Going through the break-up is not an easy thing, especially when something that is going on between you and another person ends suddenly. You never receive a response. A goodbye text or even a phone call. Things just end.
You know that just like leaves, people change forms and what once used to fit perfectly in your heart, it fits no more. A clock who ran out of its time. A never-ending pain, loneliness inside. A break-up. Only if you could call it a breakup. Instead, you are forced to call it a mismatch, a dismantling of the pieces of your existence, another time when you gave away too much and received back too little. Just another time when your heart was burning, longing without you knowing why. Without understanding how it happened again – just another failure. And sometimes you wonder if you are the failure or the other person just failed to see your innate value.
Maybe going through a break-up is easier than having a mismatch. Easier than silence and leaving room for interpretation. Easier because you somehow have some kind of closure. With mismatches is always tricky – the other person might leave room for a comeback, for messing you all over again, for stomping on your heart until you decide that it’s over. Only if it were that easy when your mind makes up a thousand of reasons why he or she was good for you.
Truth is, both of them suck but I think mismatches are more painful, more damaging for your health or your heart. I think depressive symptoms are painful like that when they make their presence shown in the dark of the night. The moments when you prefer to go to sleep or talk to someone. It’s an unending void of unhappiness that seeps you inside yourself. It’s a pain that keeps growing on you…and somehow never healing, an old friend coming back to say: ’’hi’’. Yeah, depressive symptoms are funny like that.
Mismatches are painful because you don’t get to say your last words. You don’t get to say goodbye. It’s a slow death of the parts of yourself you thought you needed…but never dared to get them back. Someone else just took them, without your permission…and now you are left here to stare at walls and wonder ’’what happened to us when only yesterday we were fine?’’. But you know it doesn’t matter, not for him, anyway. You were just another girl, another abandoned kid left by her mother to wonder in this world alone. Another pain in the ass….and somehow you found yourself unworthy, depleted of love. You found yourself unworthy and not good enough….and you believed it….you believed the lies…and now you are crying while writing this…you are crying with tears falling down so that the demons will hear it. That you are healing.
This crying is some kind of washing away of everything there is rotten inside, except there is nothing rotten within you. There is nothing to be fixed, just more pieces to be loved, uncovered and cherished. Just more of yourself to be tucked in at night and hugged and read good old time stories to.
You believed for a moment that this mismatch took your time away. It took your heart away and managed to untangle your veins from the unhappiness of life. That you were over but after a while, you managed to see it just the way it was always supposed to be seen – a wrinkle in time, another experience, another way for you to discover just how strong you were without a man in your life. And now you are writing, now you are determined to see your worth and love yourself above all else. Now you are a diamond glowing in the dark.
Here you are, crying…and after the tears comes the laughter, the smile, the bittersweet happiness that the Universe knows best, that the Universe had other plans for you and you decided not to listen.
Control. Resistance. Everything in full blown. You threw it at them…yet, still, they didn’t listen. ’Cause the Universe couldn’t care less about your stupid plans. You know what they said ‚’’If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans’’’….and that’s exactly what you did, girl. You arranged everything to fit perfectly except none of the pieces fit unless you were true to yourself. And you were not true to yourself, staying strong in your therapist’s office just like that.
’’Be honest with your pain. Ask for help.’’ Pieces of advice you should have followed, but you didn’t….so instead of scolding you learn to love yourself, you learn to appreciate every part of the journey. You learn to laugh out loud and cry tears of gold and smile at this amazing experience called life…because in the end, everything was beautiful.
A mismatch? What if this ’’mismatch’’ was not just what you wanted, but exactly what you needed to be propelled towards a life of greatness, a life in which you are truly a writer?
Keep dreaming, girl. Maybe mismatches are just stepping stones towards your greatness.
Lots of love,
The Heart of An Aspiring Writer
Image source 1 & 2: https://sayingimages.com/
Image source 3: http://spiritualcleansing.org/