I always found it interesting how we feel safe in expressing and parading our relationships on social platforms, but keep the heartbreak and ends of them silent.
And since I’m in the business of challenging conventions, I’m going to share the beautiful messy parts of this life. After all, breakups are nothing unique.
From the day we met, there was an instant connection, buzzed by coffee and sweet topic jumps. Our 3 hour conversation, that Sunday afternoon, followed us to our cars in the parking lot, not jolted by the crisp January wind. I remember even hugging goodbye and hello… though I’ve totally been colder than winter during first encounters. But it was as if I was meeting someone Ive known before.
Perhaps we have met in another life…
The steps of our love story would keep you guessing, both at the beginning and at the end. We kept finding our way back to each other. Both running from stillness, questioning our directions together and apart.
Throughout our relationship, I’ve watched him leave for periods of time, following music, and instrumenting his way back to me —consistency became my favorite song. Things were great for a long while. I thought I had met “the one.” He was everything without trying.
I felt safe. Safe enough to face myself in the mirror. I heard my words echo off him as I learned I had unhealed childhood wounds I had to mend.
I talked to a therapist. B and I talked after. We traveled. I moved jobs and got my own place. I started discovering things I wanted. I re-met myself. The self before the chaos of life.
On another winter day, 3 years later, I confessed some of my heart drumming with wishes. We discovered we were living two different lives. And this discovery wasn’t so simply stated. It was an eruption of questions, feelings, and challenges.
The thing with love is that it can blind you from seeing reality. Love isn’t blind but we can find ourselves walking short-sightedly. The connection could be strong, but our unmatched feet can trip us.
That map of life, we both ignored, began to forcefully unfold.
I challenged him for not wanting what I wanted. But I failed to see that I hadn’t figured out what I wanted until somewhat recently. My own ignorance landed me here. Some may say it was my heart, but isn’t it all the same?
Through the grief stages of this breakup, I have reacted from disappointment, fear, and sadness. I have said things I’ve regretted because I couldn’t believe his mind wasn’t meeting mine.
The thing is, Brandon has only given me love. And he never promised anything more. Accepting that has been beautiful and messy. The english language has hindered me from understanding the complexity of us and our relationship. But these newer grounds gave me “Akeru”, which in Japanese translates to: “to pierce, to end, to open.”
And I couldn’t be more thankful for these pivotal years… you can watch the sun rise together, over and over, but not agree where it should set.
Maybe we’ll meet again in another life. Perhaps, in Japan, where our steps make more sense, under the sunrises beaming down on us with akeru. If that’s true, I’d still want the longer days knowing they’d end.
“To pierce, to end, to open,” maybe “the one” isn’t a person, but, instead,
the one big necessary–