You have no idea.

 It was raining. We were going to take a walk on the beach, but it was raining, so we ducked inside of a bar instead, and that’s when you told me.

Right after I said I wanted to make it work. Right after I told you that my dad said that you were a keeper. You said you didn’t see the relationship going anywhere long-term.

I kept it together. I said I appreciated your honesty. I know we weren’t together for that long. But, holy shit, the emptiness and the loneliness that I felt when you told me was fucking devastating. I was so ready to let myself love. Freely and openly. And, god, really that’s all I want to do.

You have no idea how good it felt to kiss you, how every touch felt like electricity and warmth and safety. You have no idea how terrified I am that I’m never going to feel that authentically again.

I fear I’m just going to be single my entire life.

—

I wrote this in the heat of the moment, in the car on the ferry ride back home. Since then, I have spoken with my therapist and have discovered some things about myself. Namely, that I have a fear of abandonment due to losing my mother to cancer at a young age. This, obviously, makes breakups feel that much more crippling.

Of course, the logic doesn’t make anything feel any less real. It’s a coping mechanism of mine to hide behind the logical explanations for things to make them feel more distant, less personal. But, really, what’s more personal than a relationship ending?

Another thing I learned about myself in therapy is that it’s perfectly healthy to put my feelings away in an internal metaphorical container… momentarily. Not forever. The box doesn’t disappear. It only gets bigger and heavier with every little trauma that I put into it, and if I don’t deal with any of the contents, I can’t handle them at all anymore. I take out one, and they all spill out all over the place.

So I’m dealing with it. I’m using my safe spaces and free time to cry. Taking the trauma out of the box and confronting it. Looking it straight in the face and telling it I’m stronger than it makes me believe. I can survive this; I’ve survived worse.

And I’m also dating again. So there's that.