The Heartbreak - then the Repeat

It wasn't my first heartbreak, but it was the first one that shattered my heart like it was made of glass.

I had wanted it to work - so badly that I stayed silent and tried my best to push through everything and be someone that I couldn't look at in the mirror. I remember being so thankful that I never bruised. I remember being so grateful that when people asked questions, that I could use that I was shy or that it was our faith and I was being a good submissive wife.

I was told that if I was better - in so very many ways - that I'd be worthy. And then? When I started pushing back just a little bit because there were things that I wanted to do with my life too... he was done with me. I remember sitting there in shock as the words came: I don't want this life anymore - not with you and /them/.

I remember he looked so tired... and I loved him so very much. I remember going to him and running my fingers through his hair...

I begged him to reconsider. I offered to take even more off of his plate... but his mind was made up as he pulled away from me. "You can't give me what I want because I don't want all of this responsibility."

The door shut as he left. I called other people that I figured that he would turn to... all I wanted to know was that he was safe. I didn't care that much about the fragments of my heart strewn across the floor.

I let him go. He didn't want us... not me... and my only tie was the little ones who wanted him again.

I loved him. I wanted him to be happy.

He wasn't happy with us. Trying to force that? Was ridiculous. Even though things later changed and I tried to fight for the relationship to turn healthy for my children... why? Because he said that my ease at letting him walk out the door only showed how little I cared.

Only? I was the one who held her own pain at arm's length to hold him and tell him that he was loved so much - whether or not he stayed. I loved him enough to let him go to another woman's house that night... and be held there... because I wasn't enough for him.

I sometimes wish that I had yelled and screamed like a woman on the TV, but... no, I loved him enough to give him what he wanted: an easy out.

***********************

That night, I was already struggling so much. My not quite boyfriend, but one of my only best friends... was coming over and walked through the door. I had been talking to my Mom and saw the glint of the silver gift of my love being attempted, unsuccessfully, to be hidden by him.

"I gotta let you go Mom. I love you. Talk to you later." And then he had my full attention.

"This isn't a good visit." He warned me.

"I know."

He looked surprised, but that gift being returned was a sure sign and he never did realize I think that I noticed just as much (if not more) than he did.

He wanted to leave. I knew his heart wasn't here... I knew how it felt to miss home with your entire being... I knew that I loved him - and love doesn't hold on when you know that they aren't happy. My heart shattered. The platitudes, the "it's not you, it's me", the "you deserve better" nonsense... it all just made my heart ache even more. Yes, I might deserve better but by saying that? He told me that my love wasn't even appreciated in the least - my choice to want him despite his many flaws? Was yet another stupid decision I had allowed my heart to sneak past my logical mind.

I had him confused because I loved him, but not for a single thing he did for me.

I loved him for what I saw when he thought that no one was watching.

I loved him for the heart he held inside his chest.

I loved him for being the man he was despite the things he had been through.

I loved him despite the million reasons I had not to...

I felt my heart shatter, but I held the pain at arms length and held him for a little while because I could feel his sadness too. I loved him - I didn't want to make him feel like he had to stay.

But, I drew the line when I felt the pull from him for a kiss that I didn't want.

I drew the line when I felt like begging him to stay.

I let him walk out the door... waited until I heard his vehicle drive away... and crumbled... alone.

It was the second time, but it felt so familiar.

**************

Both times I was angry - mostly at myself. The first time was because I imagine that I sounded pathetic begging the guy to stay, but the second time was because (even when I had good reasons too) I refused to tell him exactly how much I loved him and how much I wanted him to hold me. I had promised myself that that pathetic creature I had been would never be let out again. He thanked me... for making it easy on him.

Both times I was devastated - it took months before I even considered falling in love again without my heart's edges cracking apart, not because there wasn't interest, but because I needed to heal.

Both times I didn't seem to care that much was the feedback that I was given. That I must not have /really/ loved them. I had felt so misunderstood and alone... because I loved them enough to want them to be happy in spite of my heart being turned into confetti and the weeks, turning to months that I cried into my pillow and resisting the urge to call, begging them to please come back to me.

Both times... I did what they needed, what they wanted... and silenced myself, silenced my screams to protect them from the raw pain I felt so very strongly. I loved them enough to not want to ever hurt them.

I loved them both enough that when I said things that were apparently cold... and I hadn't meant it beyond just facts... my heart screamed to tell them that I was sorry and that I never wanted to hurt them. But, I loved myself enough to hold that boundary. If they took it as cold? They never really saw me ... and the ironic thing is? They both thought that I never really saw them.

But, I did.

I saw things that I still can't put into words.

I saw beauty that is not anywhere near the surface.

I saw the pain carried within and knew how that felt.

The first time, I thought that I could fix it and make him whole again with enough love.

The second time, I wanted to help him so badly but knew by then that how I felt? Didn't matter in the least. I just had to accept that I was not where his heart wanted to rest in peace - which meant that I wasn't what he really needed. And I loved him enough to want him to find that in spite of wanting him to love me too.

I just wish... that I knew a way to make it as easy on me as apparently I made it for the guys who shattered my heart in ways that I am not sure that they could ever understand.

My exterior becomes like ice... but inside? Inside those shards cut me so deeply that I was surprised that it happened a second time.

The thing that the second time taught me though? If I can love the wrong ones this much? When Mr. Right for me comes knocking... well... he will have more love than he will know what to do with and it will be... not perfect, but enough. In the meantime though, I have realized that I am more than enough just as I am.

I love that I wanted to protect them. In all honesty? Neither of them could likely handle the extreme pain that I felt if I would have done as women on the TV do and turned my pain into a sword to intentionally use to hurt them back with... to cut them as deeply as they cut my soul. I know they both have shared with others that I have weaponized my pain in one way or another... and I chuckle... I'm not sure why... but I somehow find it amusing that I have never, ever done a single thing with the intention to make them hurt yet they have claimed that I did. I have thought about it... but I could never do it. Their pain and their tears? Won't fix my heart and only end with me feeling more guilt than I already feel for the accidental pain that I may have given them. But sure, go ahead... think that I tried to hurt them... just - remember to also thank God for giving me the heart that I have because (I think) deep down, they both know that I am capable of great destruction and that they never were left to fight my dark side the way they seem to want to claim they were. I get to laugh in peace... knowing that I still protected them - even when given a million reasons to actually shatter their hearts before saying farewell.

I love that I know that it isn't my job, nor my goal, to fix and patch other people's oopsies. We all have to patch ourselves back together with the help of our deity.

I love that I feel so deeply because it is magical... even when it hurts so very much.

I love that if either of them needed something - despite having my boundaries to not beg or plead for anything ... or possibly even feel like I like anything about them anymore - that I would do all that I could do to help them.

I love that I don't /need/ anyone's love to be perfectly amazing and whole (other than my God's, of course), that I still /want/ to share a love that will shine so very bright when Mr. Right finally knocks on my door.