I always thought that love was forever. As if it was a warmth that once you had knitted it together it would always be so. The belief that sweet whispers and promises were carved into stone instead of simply the morning mist, fading once the sun burned it all away. But maybe what I’m realizing is that not all love is meant to stay. In those moments, I had a choice, just as we all do. Do we hang on out of fear, or not wanting to start over again, or do we let go? 

Gently at first perhaps, until the memory fades into the fog and we can’t quite make out the love that once seemed so real. 

I Loved

I have loved. I have loved greatly. I’ve had affairs of the soul and felt the lifetimes of my soul come together and separate again. I’ve been changed by love. But I also eventually realized it was the love for myself that was responsible for the greatest changes. 

I fell into a love that I never thought would end. 

It felt magical, but more than that, it brought out the version of me I was always too afraid to embrace. It brought out my uniqueness, my romance, sexuality, and just me. Yet, this love didn’t take me on the journey I thought it would. While amazing at times, it also broke me in a way I never thought possible. Because I never truly understood that love may not be enough until I was left bleeding in its absence.

Surrounded by nothing but silence. The words that grew like wisteria around my bones, darkened on their vine and there was nothing there. Nothing but the memory of him, of us. The memory of the story that I had created and the version of myself that it revealed. 

When faced with an abyss of silence, it’s easier to dance around it. To not go in but view it from a safe distance, after all, once we go in, akin to a rabbit hole in Alice in Wonderland, we don’t know where it will lead. But soon that abyss began to call to me with promises of peace, and so I didn’t wade in slowly but dove in. 

I Learned

I dove into everything I didn’t want to see, into everything that was real versus the beautiful dream that I had. And in it, I found the truth. See, this love that I had wasn’t healthy. It was intoxicating, but it wasn’t meant to last. It was my catalyst. My awakening and my opportunity to heal that little girl who was always looking for someone to protect her. 

It’s not such a bad dream to be chosen, loved, or protected, but when I started placing the dream into the hands of those who had no idea what to do with it, I was a contributor to my own pain. I didn’t see it at the time because of course there was only love and the beautiful story I had written about us. Not because it wasn’t real, but because there was more to it than just that. 

I had to face my own darkness as much as I had to face his. Because as easy as it would be to paint him as the villain, the truth was I was my own villain. Not in a malicious way, but ignorance does beget accountability. I had to acknowledge that I hung on when I should have let go. That the truth was always there from the start but that I never wanted to see it. And that while I accused him of his unavailability, the truth was that I was unavailable. That as much as I wanted, I wasn’t ready to give, at least in the ways healthy love would require of me.

So he became my safe place, my hide out, and my catalyst all so that one day I would learn to let go.

I Let Go

No matter how much I wanted to make it work, it didn’t mean that I could. Sheer will and romance isn’t enough to make a relationship last. No matter how deep we feel the connection is. Because I love you isn’t a guarantee and healing has a funny way of changing everything. Eventually I did emerge on the other side of the abyss and as I had a feeling it would, everything looked different. 

The connection I immortalized to the world suddenly became reduced to inner child wounds. The divine chemistry revolved around my worthiness, and the staying was simply because I hadn’t learned that I had the power to leave. But letting go isn’t just in the leaving; it’s in the memory too. 

I walked away, and I did sink myself into the abyss of silence. I embraced the moments no words came and the nights where I wondered if I would ever feel anything again. Because to surrender means to surrender to all of it. To go into a process, truly not trying to control the outcome but willing to be a participant. And I was. I let myself heal on my own schedule. I didn’t distract myself with new attention or the admiring touch of a man just to have someone next to me. I didn’t drug myself into a coma of numbness or punish my body for a love that was never meant to last.

I held myself with love and with patience. And each morning I awoke, I let go. I let go of the dream, of romanticizing him and the story. All of it, and then I let go some more. I let go of regret, of the choices I made when I didn’t know any better. I let go of the fear of the future. But most of all, I let go of what I once thought was love, knowing I was right. We don’t ever fall in love the same way twice, and for me I hope I never do again.

Because as the winter began to recede, and the tender shoots of green overtook the forest surrounding me once more, I found myself letting go one last time. I let go of using my aloneness to protect myself. Knowing I was finally ready, not to love again, but to love for the very first time.

And while I know now it will be different, I also know this time I won’t have to let go—and that makes it all worth it.

~

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