Published by admin on March 3, 2016

free. at. last.

 

I didn’t know that I wasn’t free. Not until tonight.

It’s 11 months to the day since my breakup with M, my longest, most significant romantic relationship of my life.

In a moment of not-all-togetherness, I texted her. I am heartbroken, I told her. And, no, this is not me asking for you back. I added: and I’m a lot more like you than I let on.

 

A couple of days go by, and she asked me how so.

I emailed back that I had tried to push her to be more a part of this world, even though the truth was that I was projecting my insecurities onto her.

It was me who was out of balance; I was the one who had invested too much in this world of doing, and forsaken myself, as well as my relationship, in the process.

 

Her response: she had moved on.

That was another Universe for me.

 

Her words stung deep.

 

Here I was, still heartbroken, and she had moved on.

So much so that it was light years away from her now.

 

I was.

 

But after talking it out with my new Carolina friend, I realized that she had just given me a gift–freedom.

Maybe I was worried that I had hurt her. And I was still beating myself up for it, almost a year later.

But her moving on gives me permission to do the same.

 

i. am.

moving.

                on.

 

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#break-up#breakup#freedom#heart-broken#heartbroken#hurt#love#moving on#relationships
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