Anatomy of a Breakup

You meet a guy. It starts with a smirk directed your way in a training at work. You resist because it's a bad idea to date a co-worker but he makes you laugh. He says it's a free country. You acquiesce.

But you worry, because you are already in a relationship with Depression. You try to tell him this. He assures you that nobody is perfect and if you feel bad, then just feel bad for a bit. It's a risk, you're not sure how jealous of a lover Depression is, but you go with it because it's nice.

You fall in love. He falls in love. It's the way it's supposed to be, glorious and comforting. It's so nice to have a person. There are moments you look at him and imagine a life. That he could be The One.

Early on, Depression pays a visit. It tells you the normal lies, like you're not in love, you have no feelings, you aren't worthy of them. It's scary because you were so sure just the day before. You don't say anything to him because you don't want to worry him. And, sure enough, when Depression leaves and you can breathe again, your heart melts and you're so glad you didn't say something to scare him away.

The two of you talk about The Future. It's nice to think it could happen. You ask each other questions about what it would be like and how compatible are you. The usual things. There are small arguments, like any couple would have, but it's mostly easy. Depression comes and goes, but it never stays long. When it does, you hide it. That way you know how. Because you've had practice.

A year goes by. An anniversary is celebrated.
A week goes by after that.
Depression stops in. It settles in to stay for a while.

One week you are perfectly happy and the next you feel nothing. He notices. You talk about it. I'm feeling sad, you say. He makes jokes but you can't laugh like you usually do. There are more sad days and you fall inside yourself. He asks if you care. Yes. Yes, I care. It isn't you. It isn't us. I just need some time.

More days go by and you are drowning, He is not concerned, he is alarmed. He says he doesn't feel connected anymore and inside you are screaming, I feel that way with everyone. I'm disconnected from the world. I'm alone. You're right here and I'm alone and I can't stop it and I can't get to you and why don't you understand me??

It doesn't stop. You are waiting and he can't wait. You are more alone than ever. He thinks he's alone and you can't say the words that will help him because you can't help yourself. You might be dying inside but he can't see it. He can't see the wounds and the scars. He can't see that you're bleeding out on the inside so he thinks you're making it up.

You give up. You both give up. It's mutual. There is no more anger, only resignation. There are tears on both sides because it's sad. Endings always are. You hold onto each other for a little while knowing it's the last time. You say you're sorry but those aren't the words. They're not enough for what this is.

Depression comes in after he leaves. You are smart enough to know that there were other problems along the way. It's never just one thing because life is complicated and relationships have three sides. Your story, his story, and the truth that is mixed in the middle. Depression, though, is a bitch and mindfucks you when you're down. It was your fault. You are not lovable and you will never be happy with someone because of it. You are doomed and should just stop trying right now.

So you cry. You will cry. You will hide under blankets and miss the good days. You will go through the motions and move so carefully so that you don't break because you are made of glass. People can see into your soul and see you are damaged and broken but they are whole so they keep going by.

You will surrender to Depression for a little while. You hope that you can slip under that dark water and not feel for a while. Not feeling is easier. Numbness is welcome when it doesn't scare you because now you have nothing to lose.

And then one day you will breathe again. One day you will realize that you stopped crying even though you're not sure when it happened. You will reach out to friends and you will do things that comfort you and you will come back to the world. You will be able to give back again and you will mean it when you laugh.

You might even allow yourself to hope again.
Some day.
But not today.

How to Thrive

I recently ended a year-and-a-half relationship. It's okay; it was necessary and a positive step. Even so, it's cause to reflect on my past relationships and what I've learned about why each happened and/or ended. There is one glaring variable in each and that is how much I have changed.

When I was first divorced, with a three-year-old daughter, I was afraid to be around other people. Specifically married people who had supposedly "gotten it right." I felt as if I just stood out, like there was a neon sign designating me as the failure in the room. I wanted so badly to have that again, to fit in with the "normal" parents. Now I find myself looking at these people and wondering if they're really happy, assuming most of the time they aren't. Marriage is hard.

I then went through a very difficult relationship that never gave me what I wanted. In trying to get what I wanted I bent, I twisted, I did everything I could think of to contort myself into what would make it work. Because I was Relationship Girl and I was damned if I wasn't going to make it work. I never got what I wanted and, instead, I lost myself in the process.

In the years after that relationship ended, I worked at finding myself again. Discovering what I liked. What I wanted from my life and who I wanted to be. I chose my friends carefully, surrounding myself with people who offered me the missing pieces of me. My security. My passions. My confidence. My humor. Self-sufficiency. Self-acceptance.

While discussing this most recent relationship with my hairdresser, I suddenly realized that I don't thrive in relationships. I thrive when I'm on my own. I've gained more out of my life in the times I've been "alone" than in any relationship I've ever been in. I thrive.

I shared this thought with a friend who expounded on it, saying that as women we focus on our partners, building them up until we, ourselves, are crushed. We fall behind in the shadows and expend all of our energy making sure the man in our life has what he needs to be secure. We lose track of what we need.

In each relationship of mine there has been an imbalance. Whether that imbalance was rooted in intelligence, a lack of mutual feelings, family backgrounds, or life stages, I feel like that is the core of why they didn't last. What I need is equality. Maybe equality will allow me the ability to thrive.

And, maybe, there is the possibility that I'm just not meant to be in a relationship. At this point in my life I value my independence over the many compromises that are required to be a successful partner. I've worked hard to be me and I'm not willing to just trade that away for the "security" offered in a relationship.

Maybe. I don't have the answers yet. I'm getting closer. What I know right now is that I have love in my life. I have a beautiful daughter who still needs me, even if for just a little while longer. I have love from friends who offer support, encouragement, and plenty of laughter. I have dogs who love me no matter what I'm going through and are happiest snuggling next to me. I have passions and interests and new adventures yet to be discovered.

These are the things that help me to thrive. I prefer thriving over wilting.

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