Rikki Carroll

Waiting to Bloom

I’ll always remember the day that Tommy left. Not even so much for the breakup itself; in fact, that memory has largely been muddled by time. No, I’ll always remember the day because it was such a You-Just-Got-Dumped kind of day. It was the beginning of March, and the weather was certainly coming in like a lion. Blustery and gray, it was the kind of day that would be enjoyed much better at home. And yet I couldn’t stand being inside. I didn’t want to be alone with myself, in the tiny apartment that I was struggling to pay for. So I bundled up and took a walk, unable to tell if the sharp stinging on my face was caused by the wind or my tears. Probably both. Tommy had asked me to come over to his place earlier that morning, where he wasted no time in telling me that he thought it would be best if we spent some time apart. “Lindsay”, he started. “We’ve been together for almost 7 years now and I haven’t seen you ever do something just for yourself. You don’t take risks. You don’t take the time to enjoy yourself. And I just don’t feel like it’s right for you to be in a relationship right now.” While I thought it was kind of a lame excuse for a breakup, what annoyed me the most was that he wasn’t wrong. I’d always struggled with spending time with myself. Being alone with my thoughts honestly felt overwhelming most of the time. So I instead threw myself into jobs that I wasn’t necessarily passionate about, but that kept me busy. I made sure that I was always occupied with some sort of task, regardless of if it was beneficial to myself and my goals. In fact, I had started to lose sight of what my goals actually were.