Dear my ex,
Sometimes it’s hard to believe that it was over six months ago that you looked me in the eye and told me that continuing our relationship would be “catastrophic” in your choice terrible wording. From that moment on, and for the next 3-4 months, it felt like a knife going into my heart, being reinforced by a lead block being pushed into my chest. I had days when I didn’t know when I would start crying. Most of my breakdowns shamefully occurred when I attempted to go out and forget about you. Fail. You took my confidence those 3-ish long months, and my hope that I would ever be happy again. I had hopes and dreams with you. Yes, they were slightly outlandish, but they were what motivated me to keep pushing forward. What was I supposed to do now? Cry, scream obscenities into my pillow, and stalk you on your Instagram to see if maybe, just maybe, you were as miserable as I was. That became my new agenda. Yeah, I had my last semester of grad school, yeah I had job interviews to start my career. I had so many things going for me and my thoughts were almost always on you. I wasn’t seeing a light at the end of my woe-is-me-breakup-tunnel.
There’s an annoying saying that everyone has heard: “time heals everything, you just have to give time time.” It’s annoying because it’s true. It’s also annoying because time takes its damn time to do its thing! This heartbreak was way too deep for a haircut, several bottles of wine, crying with friends, and getting serious about working out to fix (all of which, I of course did. I also want to add that I HATE that I got the cliche’ “breakup haircut”. Ugh.). Around the 4-5 month mark, I began to focus on myself some more. This is when I really got into weightlifting. For my entire life the word alone scared me. I owe you a thanks for giving me a new beloved hobby, my main source of stress relief, and a fantastic body! It might also help to add at this time life got busy with school such as graduation, Master’s thesis, starting to study for my boards, job interviews. Minor things. I can’t remember the last time I cried over you when reflecting on this period. Shamefully, but not really, I may or may not have gotten a little slutty at this point. No rebounding per se, just being a slut in my opinion. No, I’m not going to divulge into my personal life. You lost that right when you decided you no longer needed me in your life.
I’m starting to ramble. My point: I graduated with my master’s degree at a young age (23), I have a fantastic job that I love and will continue to challenge me as I establish myself in my career, I live by myself in a completely different city that you would probably hate just as much as the last one I lived in, and I’M OK. I’m more than OK. If you asked me in February about you, I would say without hesitation that you were the worst thing that ever happened to me. Stupid me. You were and are the best thing that ever happened to me. I have more confidence than I have ever had in my life now because I overcame this. My eyes are dry and rid of tears of a nonexistent future. My smiles and laugh are genuine. My friends tell me that I’m “back to normal,” whatever that means. I will most likely never speak to you again, and you will most likely never see this. You haven’t made the effort, so why should I? If I would though, my words to you would be “thank you.”
I know now that we would have never worked. We had different ambitions in life. I must admit that I don’t understand yours and still don’t agree with them, but that’s not my business, is it? Of course you still cross my mind, but now it’s with faint smiles of memories. I would be lying if I said I will never cry over you again. There will be tough days, and I know this. But I also know this- I am strong enough to persevere. Because of you, I can handle anything. I’m OK.