Finally, at some point, I came crashing down to my senses.I’m not sure how it happened -- maybe time the great healer, the wise grounding force bringing us safely back to the solid ground of reality when we’ve temporarily lost ourselves in the throes of heartbreak.Together, we held hands on long plane rides to different countries, embarked on a colorful spectrum of adventures, saw new things with fresh eyes, staved off old demons and built a life. Sometime around month two of our breakup, I had heard from a friend of a friend my ex was “seeing” a new girl.
Alcohol and a broken heart have always served as a catalyst for my destructive decisions. She blissfully smiled in every picture and wore denim shorts and flat shoes.
It was my first love, and I didn’t think I would ever be capable of experiencing that kind of intimacy again.
I’m closed-off by nature, but in this relationship, I exposed the vulnerable parts of myself that up until that point had been pressed tightly up against my chest.
On the rare occasion I do post words on to social media outlets, it’s a wicked societal commentary, rich with sarcasm.
Within minutes of taking in her slew of toothy selfies and college girl quotes, I drew some pretty drastic conclusions about a girl I had never met nor spoken to. She probably played soccer in high school and had a mom who baked. And it cut the surface of my skin with such a piercing intensity, its sting broke through to the core of my heart.
It was in this relationship I learned one of those painfully difficult lessons one must learn in order to grow up -- the biting reality that love, alone, isn’t enough to sustain you.