Letting Go

It's hard to think about letting things go.  Letting go of something that once made you happy but ended or letting go of the hurt inside after you lose someone.  It's a lesson I very desperately need to learn.  Instead of thinking about the fact that things have ended, my mind chooses to focus on the things that happened before they did.  The sweet comments, the texts, every little thing as long as it's positive.  So the right response is to delete it all, which I did.  Facebook messages, texts, phone numbers, they're all gone.  But I can't erase what is stored in my memory.  Not only are they recent memories, but I am able to remember things that are said and done for a long time.  So my brain chooses to focus on those and showing me the things that I'm missing instead of letting them go.  How do I even begin to let go?

Well, as I said, I deleted Facebook messages, texts, and phone numbers.  That was an easy start, can't obsess over everything I said, every message to find out where I went wrong if they don't exist.  But the real life conversations, the phone conversations, the memories stored in my mind are there.  Even as those little things that bothered me would pop up from time to time, these memories choose to pop up, usually at night when I'm going to bed.  I sit alone at night, unable to deal with the facts of what happened.  That the feelings I thought I was having were ill timed and poorly developed.  Instead of taking time, I let the infatuation settle in and allowed myself to bask in it. It was like quitting cold turkey.  I went from feelings of elation to suddenly not having it and having no way to get it back.  I was living in a fantasy world, a world that my brain concocted to hide from the hard truth: I was rebounding, hard, and that in doing so I was doing everything I could to create this world where I could be happy.  A world that I'm having a hard time letting go of.

Truth is, I was superficially happy.  The texts, messages, phone calls, and time together would make me smile.  But it became something I needed constantly, an unrealistic addiction to avoiding the fact that I was hurting under all of it.  From day one, I wanted to spend time with him constantly-which, looking back, is INSANELY unhealthy.  I didn't have to focus on what made me sad if something that made me happy was just around the corner.  For two weeks, I spent a lot of time at school just sitting with him.  I didn't want to go home because I'd have to face the fact that underneath my happy exterior, I was miserable.  I focused so hard on avoiding the negative at home that the positive at school got blown up into an unrealistic high.  When all is said and done, we spent a month "together."  We talked, we texted, we spent some time literally together, but it wasn't that long.  And all throughout it, that voice in the back of my head was telling me that it'd never work-he was too young and there were too many hurdles-but my brain chose to ignore it in order to feel that euphoria, the dopamine rush that comes with the thrill of meeting someone new, of spending time with someone you care about (and I need to emphasize this: I DO care.  I don't just turn on and off caring about someone on a whim).  Then, when things came crashing down and suddenly I was removed from the thing causing that rush, all of the emotions I had been avoiding came pouring in.  Like an addict, I begged him to not take that away from me.  I was completely unfair to him and myself.  I didn't want to go without that rush, I didn't want to face the sadness that came creeping up from under the surface.  I still don't want to face that sadness.  I'd kill to have that dopamine rush again, to not have to face any of it, but it's not real happiness, it's temporary and doesn't deal with the root cause of the issue.  Instead, it compounded things.  Now instead of just trying to let go of my marriage, I'm trying to let go of the failed potential of a relationship/friendship. So I have to figure out how to let go of that need for the rush, let go of the pain, and let go of all of the things from my past that have hurt me.

I have to learn to let go of Geoff.  To let go of the last 8, almost 9 years of my life with him.  The happy times along with the sad.  To let go of the anger I had toward him and still have.  The hurt that I feel because it seemed like I wasn't important enough to fight for, to try for.  The shame and embarrassment I feel that I spent so many years talking about how I don't believe in divorce, that being married to your best friend is the most important part, any other kind of compatibility be damned.  The feeling with both that maybe, just maybe, if I had tried harder, been better, talked less about me, or just been overall different in some way, things would have worked.  Instead of focusing on the issues that are had on both sides, my brain glorifies their good points and demonizes my bad.  I'm messy, I'm needy, I talk about my personal issues too much but they're a good provider, or a good listener, or just fun to be around so they've done nothing wrong.  I'm embarrassed that I've somehow failed not only myself, but them.  That maybe if I could go back and change just this one little thing it'd be better.  Maybe if I'd let Geoff cry on my shoulder when he was afraid he'd get fired instead of trying to convince him it wouldn't happen, he'd never have cheated.  Maybe if I'd slowed down and not complained about being unhappy so much, getting hurt last week would never have happened.  The glorification of who they are just serves to assist in the beating down of myself that I do.  If they're so perfect, it's obviously my fault.  How do I even begin to let go?   It's hard to live with these regrets, to live with the fact that not only could I not fix myself, I couldn't fix them.  I couldn't fix the things that hurt them, fix any insecurities they had, fix the things in the past that had hurt them.

It takes two to start a relationship but only one to end it.  In one case, I was the one who chose to end it but it was a more mutual feeling that neither of us had wanted to tell the other about and we will always be there for each other.  In the other, I wanted that euphoria to continue-I didn't want it to end.  But it's not my choice.  I can't force someone to stay with me just because I want them to.  I can't force him to be my friend if he's not ready to-and maybe he will be eventually, maybe not.  That's the part that hurts more than ending what relationship there was.  The end of the friendship.  I can understand it though-making a fully clean break to avoid a recurrence.  No contact, no reminders, a chance to move on.  I have to now figure out how to get the memories to stop.  To put them in the back of my mind as something that was good when I needed it but something that wasn't meant to be.  To stop living in regret that it's over and instead be optimistic about the future.

I need to realize that there's nothing I can do, probably even could have done, to change the outcome.  Neither  of us were ready and both of us rushed things.  It was doomed to fail from the start because we jumped into the water and it was colder than we thought it would be.  We didn't take the time to get to know each other-to just be friends, and that was the start of the downfall.  It was over before it began and I have to deal with that.  Some things can be fixed after the fact.  Relationships, whether friendship or otherwise, can't always be fixed.  As much as I wish I could go back, I can't.  That's just something I'm going to have to face.  With my marriage, I know I did everything I could to fix things, that it was just too far gone.  That makes it easier to accept somehow.  It hurts like hell, I'll miss him like crazy and I will miss having someone to come home to every night, to talk to, to hang out with.  Not knowing if there was something I could have done differently, or still having the friend to talk to who just sat and listened to me and comforted me when I cried, hurts.  There's nothing I can do to get that back and the only thing that I can hope will help is time.

In all of this, I learned a valuable lesson: stop giving all of yourself the minute you feel a connection.  If things are meant to be, you should start out by getting to know the other person for who they are and things will progress from there.  But first, you should be friends.  Don't just dive in and hope that it won't end.  And most importantly-don't give up yourself in the process.  Don't make your entire happiness revolve around that text, that phone call, or seeing them.  I need to start doing things that I want to do just because I want to do them.  Not because losing weight will make me more attractive, or because the person I'm into really likes doing that one thing, but because I enjoy it.

But first, I need to learn to let go.  I need to stop holding on to what could have been and look at what is right now.  Look at the friends that I have that I'm going to work on spending more time with.  Look at the opportunity that is open to me in nursing school and embrace it.  Go out and just kick around the soccer ball because I miss it or sit at home and get lost in a book I enjoy.  Work on getting back the parts of me that I gave up for men, whether recent or in the past.  I need to learn to let go of the regret, to stop dwelling on things that I can't change.  Some things just aren't meant to be, and that's okay.  And while I recognize this all on paper, I still have to mentally let it go.  I need to find new coping mechanisms besides trying to find something to fill the void.  Instead, I need to fill it myself.  I'll get there.  Maybe not today, maybe not even this year, but I will.  I have to believe that.