How long does it take to mend a broken heart?
How long does it take to stop grieving the past, accepting the present and look forward to a better, brighter future?
I am seriously done with my heart for feeling the way I feel.
I know, I know, I’m blaming female hormones raging on today for the way I feel, bear with me, I need these things out of my chest or else I will explode.
I am probably demanding too much from myself, as usual. I can’t accept my weakness, and this one is the worst.
In my head, I should have bounced back in a matter of days, couple of weeks at best. I thought I was doing it all right:
– Gym? Checked
– Loving myself? Checked
– Meditating? checked
– Trying new things? Checked
– Embracing therapy? Checked
Well… it’s been more than couple of days, and unfortunately even more than couple of weeks. Make it more like months, and counting…. And I’m still… well… the fact that I am writing about it whilst drying my tears says it all, really.
I am not even sure what I truly miss here.
The guy? Ok, he was good, but, to be honest, he wasn’t exactly Prince Charming. Yes he was fun, yes he was cool, of course we had a jolly good time. Was he really worth of all this love and hurt that I am feeling though? No, not at all. He barely did the minimum required to be considered “committed”. I worked my ass off, and some more, because I wanted to believe in “his love”. Because I wanted his love, and he never made me feel worth enough to have it.
See, the thing is, I knew I was in love with an idea of him that I had in my mind. I was in love with the man I knew he could have been, because that man is somewhere inside him, rather than with the man I really had in front of my eyes; he preferred to keep his demons close than loving me, and I have been stupid enough to think that I could have fought them for him. You can’t fix something that doesn’t want to be fixed, right? Technically, it is not even my job to fix other people, but then again, I’m a rescuer and I always thought that this is what “makes me special”.
Heck, I even told him one night that I knew that what we had was probably just me loving for the both of us, and he tagging along because it was convenient. Worse: instead of realising “dude, you are one dumb ass bitch and you should tell him to go”, I felt like I had to hold on to him even further, because if he were to leave him, I would have been crushed.
Excuse my language, but what a load of bullshit!
Where is my self-love? My pride? My dignity? Hel-loooooo, anybody here? No?
I can’t let go. I just can’t move on, and before you ask, fuck yes, I tried.
If someone came round to offer me a lobotomy, I’d take it. A pill to forget him? Give me two, no, wait, three, just to make sure. Selective amnesia? Yes please.
It seems that no matter how strong I am, no matter how hard I push myself, no matter what I do, or don’t do, in the end nothing works.
It feels like there is always something that brings me back to square one, no matter how far I push myself to go. Take today, for example: I was about to do my usual Saturday grocery shopping. I called an Uber, because I wasn’t feeling well (me and this heatwave don’t really go along). The car arrived, I sat, and as soon as I closed the door I realised what song was coming out of the radio: the same one he made me listen on the last night we spent together. I just froze. I didn’t have the guts to tell the driver “could you please turn it off? This song is like a knife through my heart”. Instead, I sat there, trying not to cry, seeing the film of that night in front of my eyes. I felt so broken.
I still feel broken.
Oh, my god, you know what is even worse? That the brain, instead of thinking “fuck this shit Silvia, time to blast Kreator out loud and move on”, it goes into “maybe it is a sign that you must not let go because maybe, who knows, at some point…”
Mental unit, that is what at some point I will need to go! I’m FED UP!
I just want to be loved. Is it too much to ask for?
I just want to feel that… feeling.
The text message that makes your heart jump with joy.
The sweet kisses.
The falling asleep listening to the sound of him breathing next to me.
The waking up, cuddle-up in his arms and just have few minutes of relax before my day starts.
The excitement on the train to home that takes me straight back in his arms.
I want to feel desired, appreciated, cared for. I want to feel that I mean the world to someone. I want to be able to not be afraid of being dumped every second and just be, in the moment, loved.
I keep telling myself “how come you are here, all moody and tearful, crying like a baby, for someone you know full well that he doesn’t give a remote, single shit about you. Not only that, but he is out and about, jumping at every girl who throws herself at him, and yet, you are here “hoping he will change his mind”. He won’t bitch, enough is enough, he wasn’t good enough and he didn’t want you enough, so get a grip, you deserve better than being used for your money and your kind heart”.
Rationally, all it’s easy and clear. For a split second, it works: I’m even convinced! I’m in a “yeah bitch, of course, you go girl!”.
Then, something happens (like my Uber ride) and I fall back in my dark place, alone, with no one else to turn to but me. And it sucks.
I am so done feeling this shit.
I am so done feeling.
When is this nightmare going to end?