My entire life I’ve been “too much”. I’m too passionate, I care too much, I feel too much. I’m crazy, or insane.
I’ve fought the war against my empathy for so long, I’m exhausted. So I am learning to accept it. To embrace it and cherish it…for at least I can feel. There are many who cannot. And the feelings of love and care and joy that have come into my life are unforgettable and I am forever grateful for them. But when times are difficult, they truly are. My body can be racked with a sadness so thick and powerful it feels like the earth stands still. A crippling depression that leaves me wondering if I want to be a part of this world anymore. The only thing that keeps me going is knowing that someday, I will be able to be happy for a long time. When I quit fighting my emotions and the way I am.
I love deeply and passionately. I care deeply and with my entire being. I cry when I see others cry, I glow when I see beautiful things. I appreciate kindness and like minded souls more than anyone would ever know. As K. Flay would say, beauty has a way of crushing me.
Sometimes I do wish there was a way to turn it all off. The sadness, the happiness, the overthinking and anxiety. But just for a little while. What was once my curse needs to become my full-time blessing.
No one wants to be alone. Everyone deserves to feel the type of love they’d move mountains for. The type of connection that makes life worth living. The trust in another human that magically makes you feel like a different person yourself. I want that. And I can’t lose hope that someday, somewhere, I will meet a man who doesn’t tell me I’m “too much.” I am just enough and a little more.
I’ve been feeling so strong lately. I no longer feel disappointment when I think of him. I just don’t really feel anything. Apathy. I was hoping this would happen. What helps is that I haven’t seen him in a few weeks. He seems to be staying away from the gym we both frequent, which has been truly great. When I was younger I’d be dumb enough to, deep down, want to see him. But where I’m at in my life right now I could never see him again for the rest of my life and I’d be completely fine with that.
But that’s not how life works. I’m sure he’s lying low right now, letting things calm down. Maybe he thinks I’ll make a scene if I ever see him at the gym. Just goes to show how little he knows about me. That gym is my safe place. It’s my therapy room. It’s where I go to feel powerful and strong and healthy. I love the patrons, the sweat and the hard work. I’d never cause a scene. I am already upset with myself that I let Greg* into my life and it tainted the gym in a way. I know I will see him. And when I do, my heart will skip a beat. My stomach will drop. But as quickly as that happens, I’ll get it together and just keep on keeping on. Deep down though, all the feelings, the memories, the love I felt…will come back. Rushing over the walls of the dam I built to keep it all down.
And the 10 steps forward I’ve taken will be downgraded to 5. But it’s okay. This is a part of life. And we live so close to one another it’s inevitable.
He is the epitome of what could have been. What I wanted it to be. A true love. Someone I could finally and truly love and care for. I wanted endless nights of cuddles and kisses and sex. I wanted to wake up to him in the morning. I wanted to feel his smooth skin beneath my hands whenever I want. I wanted to smell him each day and have it feel like home. I wanted…so badly to be loved. and to love.
And I’m a broken soul right now. But it’s healing.
My soul is broken
I’m not sure what to do about it
Should I carry it in both hands and show it to the world?
Or should I leave it somewhere, quiet and dark
Let it heal in peace and solitude
That’s the biggest question of them all
How do you heal a broken soul?
Cigarettes and alcohol?
Muscle relaxers and sad songs?
I suppose it’s best to try them all so we can decide which one works best.
Perhaps I will try smiling at myself in the mirror.
Telling myself I’m beautiful.
My soul is broken.
But it’s healing.
I don’t know what I want. The story of my life. At this point do I want to date? And if I do, what for? What’s the end game? Is there one? So many questions. Be still my overactive mind. Maybe I want something casual. A friends with benefits. But I don’t know if I can do that anymore. The way it felt with Greg* was so different than with a casual fling. Having that emotional chemistry as well as the sexual chemistry is a different kind of sex. Connecting with someone on that level is something completely out of this world. And I miss that. I don’t miss him, but I do miss the way I felt with him. Wanted. Needed. Desired. I’d love to find that again, and I am sure I will someday…but I guess I must wait, be patient.
I wonder if I’m ever on his mind. I know he thinks I’m crazy, I can’t blame him, but I hope one day he thinks of me fondly and realizes who I was. What he knew of me.
I wonder sometimes if I am ugly. And I know I’m not, but sometimes I wonder. I see men that I find extremely attractive but talk myself out of talking to them or smiling at them because I think maybe I am not in their “league” as people say. I am short and small. But thick and curvy. I lift heavy weights and run intervals on the treadmill. And I’ve lost 35 pounds since the beginning of the year and my clothes don’t fit anymore so I had to buy new ones and now those aren’t fitting quite right either. I am still stuck in the mentally of the fat girl that let herself go, when I am now the fit girl that should be confident in her beauty and hard work. But it’s a work in progress. I wish men had a sign on their forehead whether they’ll break my heart. It’s a risk worth taking I supposed, but I don’t how if I can make it through another one.
My falling apart wasn’t beautiful, or glorious. It was difficult and ugly. It involved alcohol and 1.5 muscle relaxers. These contributed to my falling apart. I did things and said things I normally wouldn’t have. I became vulnerable, needed someone. And the only person I wanted was the one in the world that doesn’t want me. But the truth is, he doesn’t want himself. How I can expect to love someone who doesn’t love themselves? I loved the idea of him, I really did. And my heart makes me come off as being crazy. Because expressing your emotions and sharing them with someone passionately makes people crazy, right?
Honestly, my falling apart was a chance for me to come together again. And finally, after a month of depression, self doubt and dark thoughts, I feel like I’m getting back to myself. I feel stronger. I feel a new love for myself that wasn’t this strong before. I am beautiful. I am healthy. I am kind. I just need to protect my heart better. And I will.
My falling apart was a new beginning and I am ready for what’s to come.
Is being alone for the rest of my life the worst thing? Should I stress about it? I shouldn’t, truly. But I do. Throughout the years I’ve had small tastes of compassion and love. I’ve been held, but never for a long time. Never long enough. I’ve been kissed and finally felt butterflies after years of them being absent. And these small tastes have left me wanting more…so much more. What is a life without these things? Without someone to wake up next to. Without someone to share everything with, including myself. What is life without hugs and passion, and cuddles and the warmth of another’s hand in yours?
I didn’t beg him to stay in my life. I didn’t have to. He wanted me in his still, so that he wouldn’t be the bad guy. The bad guy for taking advantage of my kindness. You see, he didn’t see himself in a healthy way. And the way others saw him was more important to him than the way he saw himself. And so he would strive not to be the bad guy. Unfortunately for him I know my worth. Never will I allow a man to string me along to feel better about himself. To boost his confidence. I know what I want. I know what I’m worth. You either want me and put in the effort, or you don’t. It’s simple.
That still doesn’t mean my hearts not broken. It doesn’t mean that I don’t randomly stop what I’m doing sometimes and think back to a painful memory of what it felt like to be held by him. How it felt to hold his hand, or that first kiss. Or the 100th kiss. Laying in bed laughing together and feeling like I’d never want to be anywhere else. And I sigh, and I move on and with each time this happens I feel further and further away from it.
But it still hurts. It’s still painful. But what’s another scar on my heart? Smaller than the others but visible all the same.
I did it. I said my peace. I sent a text and told him how I felt. All the feelings I’d been keeping inside for fear of sounding crazy. And I told him, you’re going to think I am crazy, but I am not. I am just someone with a very large heart that I am terrible at protecting. I am a kind person and I am actively working on protecting myself better. I told him it is NOT okay to use people. And quite frankly I feel very used. He got what he wanted out of me physically and then dropped me like I was nothing…stopped trying. I told him I wish the best for any women in the future that fall prey to his charm and his words, but actions speak so much louder than words. He lead me on, made me believe he wanted to make a spot in his life for me.
And after I sent it I blocked him. And he cannot contact me. And if I see him at the gym we both frequent I will just have to take it as it comes. No communication. I must move on.
And I am broken and sad but also feeling stronger than I’ve felt in a while. It’s so difficult to overcome being used. So disappointing when you believe the smooth words of a man that makes promises and says sweet nothings that turn out to be just that.
Time heals, thankfully. No longer will I fall so quickly. The nights we spent together were memorable. I don’t know how a man can hold a woman so fiercely, so passionately. Can laugh with a woman so fully and connect with her so deeply, and then just change his mind. How is it so simple to hold hands and cuddle, to laugh and to love and to enjoy the connection…and then just stop. How simple it is for some and how difficult it is for the unfortunate victim.
Where do I go from here? At such a rapid pace I went from being alone and slightly lonely, to confused and extremely lonely. And the fact that I’m more lonely with you in my life should be a sign. A sign that I should move on, but that’s easier said than done. I am not begging you to stay in my life, in fact it was almost the other way around. But are you keeping me on a string that’s tied to your pocket? One you could so easily cut when you’ve no use for me anymore?
You once told me we would go far. That you’d never jump ship. I believed you. And you haven’t. No, you only just sat on the bow and kept one foot inside.
Let’s try this your way. Let’s take this slow.
I hope my reckless heart can match your pace.
I feel inspired when the fire in my heart is burning it’s brightest. When emotions and feelings of love or hate or sadness or despair are coursing through my veins. Sometimes I feel numb to the world, as if walking through it as a zombie instead of a woman. At times I feel completely uninspired, but lately, thanks to you, I’ve felt extremely inspired. The roller coaster of emotions I’ve felt over the last month have allowed me to perfect the art of spilling these emotions out onto the page in front of me.
One of the most difficult things in life is to express feelings as words.
My inspiration has lead me to the realization that I must move on. I refuse to sit on the back burner. If you had fallen for me the way I did for you then you’d have never let me go. And you should have let me go completely, not asked me to wait patiently on the back burner while we built a “friendship” and let time do the rest. Perhaps I’m being unreasonable. But taking things slow isn’t in my DNA. I am a reckless romantic with a slight tinge of masochism. Because life is just too short not to grasp every piece of happiness and potential life throws my way. So you’re being kept at a distance. And that little spot in my heart for you I so thoughtfully reserved will most likely shrink in time. You’ll become a part of my past I look back on with apathy, hopefully…eventually.
Thanks for making me feel something again. I was starting to worry I was broken in that regard.