I ended a relationship on October. And for the rest of the year I was a zombie. My body was here. But my brain, my heart, my soul, it was nowhere to be found. I didn’t realize until that moment, that it was possible to feel so lost just within your own self. Your surroundings were the same. Your externals were the same. But the insides of your soul? It’s not even recognizable.
A part of me died when that relationship ended. A part of me that used to believe, innocently yet foolishly, that love is truly capable to conquer it all. A part of me that wants to give what feels like an unbounded love – because the end of love just can’t be seen. A part of me that secretly wishes arrogantly, despite proof to the contrary, that our love can be forever. A part of me that really thought I wasn’t going to be hurt, emotional, sad, or really touched by love in this lifetime. A part of me that really looked up to my own self arrogantly and thinking I’m such a logical, objective and level-headed woman.
And it gave birth to a new part. A part of me that is just starting to really understand what devastation of the heart feels like. A part of me that has gone through an experience to bury the beliefs that ended up being wrong. A part of me that saw with my own eyes, my own inability to control my own tears because it just wouldn’t stop flowing. A part of me that realizes how capable I am of irrationality and being overwhelmed with emotions.
After love has fallen, my high opinion of myself has fallen, too. And that’s when I realized how badly my soul might need this experience – to save me from my own arrogance. For that’s what our mistakes are really for – hold up a mirror to show our errors. Taught us self-awareness, and then self-acceptance. Show us all our broken pieces, so that we may learn to put it all back together again.
And put it all back together again, I will.
Friday, 11 January, 2019.
Photo by Scott Webb on Unsplash
