Someone asked me today about my feelings for my ex: Did I have any? Is there anything still unresolved (in my head or heart)? They asked me this question while letting me know I didn’t have to answer right away, or ever if I didn’t want to. I did answer, and right now I can’t remember exactly how I answered but I know I said that I feel I’m due an apology that I’m never going to get. And I have to get over it and be okay with that.
Later I thought about it some more and came up with a more complete answer. As strongly as I felt a year ago that I could never possibly stop loving him, as much as I thought I knew the kind of bond we had and always would have, I did stop. And I understand why that changed, and I’m glad it did. But what hurts now and what I may grieve for a while longer is the loss of a friend, my best friend in fact.
Does that mean that I’m not happy? That I haven’t moved on? I don’t think so. I would consider myself as happy. Even if I get emotional when I talk (or write) about this experience, I’m still happy. Tears aren’t always an indicator of sadness. I’m finding joy every day. I’m allowing myself to be happy and not punish myself in some pointless and miserable attempt to make him feel bad. Pointless because he’ll never know and miserable because I’m the one that comes out losing in the end.
I believe I’m through the worst of it. I’ve learned a lot about myself and I’ve stepped out of a very comfortable zone into unknown territory. I’m not trying to make it sound like I’ve accomplished some rare and marvelous feat. Hardly. But it’s all relative, right?
I know I’ve been writing about this for nearly a year now; please be patient with me. The other day I looked back over nearly ten years’ worth of posts and saw that I’ve written about my marriage and my love and appreciation for this man A LOT. And I don’t regret any of it and I’m not going to retract or delete any of it. I meant every word of it. And I’ve meant and felt every word I’ve written in the last twelve months. I am a composite of everything that’s happened to me, everything that I’ve done and said, and all that’s happened around me. There’s a trend going around on TikTok where people are saying essentially this same thing: who they are is a product of people that influenced them over the years. Whether it’s why you order that tall soy decaf coffee at Starbucks, or why you wear something a certain way, or even how you drive, each is just one piece of the mosaic. (I made a couple notes earlier about this “mosaic” trend, and might possibly turn that into a poem.)
One day I will write more about writing. Or about photography, or cooking, or maybe even something new (what?!). Or I will finally write more fiction. Or I will write about the new people in my life, or maybe just one person. I’m still exploring this single life/dating thing, and still unsure what to make of it. But I’ve met some really cool, really good people as a result, so that’s already reason enough to keep on keeping on, right?