“Nana korobi, ya oki.”
Fall down seven times, stand up eight.
-Japanese proverb
Another chapter in life. I guess that’s what I’m starting. It seems so odd to start over. Yet again. Yet alone.
I miss you everyday, and yet, I have found insights into my life and myself from you leaving.
I no longer miss some women of the past, because your presence replaced them. I no longer have fantasies of the girl I dated in college. There seems to no longer be a hole in my heart left by her. Maybe there is scar tissue there, because the memories remain. Alas, I thought my feelings for her were impermeable. But no, the sights, sounds, and smells of you permeated my soul. You permeated every level of my being, and left me heartbroken, yet again. How did you do it?
Maybe it was through your smile, your laugh, your quirks, all of the sappy experiences we shared. Maybe it was the way you would charm me, and call me “your handsome man” over, over, and over. The first few times I didn’t believe it, but I eventually found myself with an air of confidence ruminating over your compliments. Maybe it was the way you smelled me and told me how good I smelled. Maybe it was the way you smiled at me. Maybe it was the way you greeted me at the door when I came home, bouncing from joy to see me. Maybe it was just me.
Maybe I don’t miss you. Maybe it’s just who I was around you I miss. I was so motivated. I was so eager and driven and felt so good about myself. I felt confident. I felt worthy.
Then you turned on me, seemingly in almost instant, and I found this new person living inside my girlfriend take over. You were so lovely and sweet – I even called you my little flower. But you wilted and turned dark, and showed the transformation from a beauty into a vicious person. It is one of the scariest transformations to witness. How could this person I trusted and loved so much, turn on me so quickly and show me such a dark side to their personality? It made me lose trust in you, but even more so, it made me lose trust in myself.
I trusted you with everything. You slept in my home. You cuddled in my bed, I made you coffee in the morning, and served you wine from solo cups at night. I told you so many secrets about myself, showed you so many sides to me that I wouldn’t want another soul to know. You had seen the most vulnerable side to me. Then you turned on me in an instant. You went from being the most lovely person I had ever met to screaming at me as if you had pure hatred for my soul. I loved you, and I tried to love your family deeply. At some points, I felt your love for me had turned into pure hatred and resentment.
You broke up with me over the phone, and everything fell apart. I tried to make it work, and amend our broken relationship, but it was like trying to glue back together broken glass. The shards cut my hands into pieces. The sides but into my soul. You seemed to not want me deep down. It was like you were showing up to a job you hated.
For the past eight months I have been ruminating. What did I do wrong? What could I have done different? Did I not love you enough? Was I not good enough? Am I not good enough?
It only added insult to injury when I finally saw you again, and then the ruminating and pain started over. I knew my feelings for you were still strong inside because I was nervous. There was the insatiable pain inside my gut. The very thought of seeing you again made my heart pound and my palms sweat. The feeling of this anxiety was almost unbearable, but I knew I might see you again at church, and there you were – with another man.
This only added to the pain I felt, and it felt like I was being kicked while down. I was being beat down while already defeated. It felt like the dagger in my heart was only being driven deeper. Had you not hurt me enough? Do I have to be humiliated too? Only three months prior you were in my car, telling me you loved me, how great I was, and desperately kissing me. It was like my our presence together was water, and we had been stuck in the desert for months with none. Now here you are with another man by your side, sharing the same intimate, emotional, physical, and spiritual experiences we used to share. I thought our connections was special, I thought it was different. I sought you out and looked for you. I went to church to find a woman, the right kind of woman, and there you were. I could think of no greater humiliation or pain in that moment than the humiliation and pain I was enduring seeing you there with another man.
So now it is time to start over. It is time to get over the breakup, and move on like I have been trying to do for the past 8 months. It is time to start over and begin again, I am just not sure how.
I feel broken, like a building that has been demolished and can’t be rebuilt. It’s as if there are no supplies for the brick, mortar, or foundation. It’s as if the workers were gone, and I have no motivation to build everything that I had lost and was so dear to me.
It almost feels humiliating and shameful to start over yet again, because it makes me feel like I have done something wrong. It makes me feel like a fool. If I was a smart respectable man, I would not be in the position I am in the first place. If I was competent, I would not have the problem of being stuck on a person who seemingly has already moved on and completely forgot about me already. I guess that’s the price to pay for loving so hard.
As long as I can remember I have been a sensitive person. I could not stand to watch horror movies. I watched a scary movie about an old woman who was possessed and had nightmares about it for months as a teenagers. Goodbyes and losses felt much more severe to me, and felt much more painful. When others would frown, I would weep, when others would weep, I would wail, and when others would wail, I would fall depressed.
On the other hand, it has always felt like I have enjoyed life pleasures more than most. When the sun is shining, I feel it’s warmth more. When the flowers are chirping, they sound more beautiful. When others would smile, I would laugh, and when others would laugh, I would cry from joy, and when others would cry from joy, I would be elated.
Being a man and playing the role appropriately has unfortunately forced me to stifle these emotions. A woman does not want a man with such emotional weakness.
So here I am, attempting to rebuild, brick by brick. Attempting to reconstruct something that someone else seemed to destroy so easily and quickly. Taking it one day at a time, and one step at a time. Trying to know myself and my weaknesses, so that if and when I do fall again, I will still be able to get back up.
How To Get Over a Breakup 