THE Break-Up

THE Break-Up

This is how I used to handle a breakup. I would cry, and cry and cry. I asked questions, I got the answers to those questions. I searched my soul. I prayed for strength.  I got said strength. I picked myself up. Dusted myself off. Wiped the tears and got back to living. Life is for the living. Not for the walking dead.  Life is short. And we only live once.

Now I search my soul. I pray for strength. Since the breakup does not leave me on the ground wailing and throwing tantrums anymore, I have no dusting off to do. No tears to wipe off. I head straight to the living. My definition of living is steering your life to your destiny, a break-up notwithstanding. Not sitting back and waiting for life to do you right because more often than not, it will not. Regardless of what you believe, the sole purpose of life is not to do you right. It does you wrong. Kicks you around. Kicks your behind hard! Your job is to prove that you are worth it in this life. To roll with the punches, to get up and trudge on.

I am fully aware that life owes me nothing. Nobody owes me nothing. My life is simply mine. This is how I look at break-ups. You get together with some guy. One who believes that he needs to be with you and you and only you and no one else. Only you. Just you. He chases you because you know, only you? Then you think to yourself; what is the harm? He seems like a nice guy. And he seems to like you a hell lot. He won’t give up so where is the harm?

Where is the harm?

So you get together. He is not perfect – no one is. But eeeh…he does just fine. Only for a while. But understand that now he has you. He is not chasing anymore. You are there. He goes to sleep, you are there in his bed. In his kitchen cooking for him every meal he dreams of. You are making a home out of his empty house. You are there. He has you.

Things happen; you look at each other and wonder…why am I here? With him? With her? Like seriously? Why? He decides he can do better. Better than you. Look at the world, people! There are so many yous, how could he not see them before. How could he leave out the other yous and settle just for you? What informed that dumb choice? But he can still choose can’t he? He can? He can’t? Why can’t he?

Where is the harm?

You find out. You are not amused. You don’t do infidelity. Like seriously. Like O My Gad! How dare he? Shit hits the fan. There goes your fickle belief in marriage. You get a strange feeling deep inside you. A feeling that you cannot explain at first. You remember how much you resisted this. There was a reason. Something about gut feelings  and how you should always pay attention to them. You finally understand why you did not refer to him as husband. The gut feeling would not let you. You knew deep down that this day was coming. You thought of this day and planned for it. You readied yourself for it. In your defense, you needed to prove that he was not worthy of your love. See, there were children involved. And you do not shut the door too soon with children involved, you are told. You give chances. You give time. You give understanding and forgiveness. For the sake of the children.

What you don’t trade for the sake of your children is your happiness. You don’t do it. Your children would not like that. They need you happy and whole. Not miserable and broken. So when the forgiving and understanding don’t work, you do the sanest thing. You pack up and leave. You let him have his choice. Even if you know that he is a broken human being who needs a lot of mending.  Adults should be allowed to make their own mistakes. There is a hole somewhere in him that needs filling. And he sabotages himself in the process of trying to fill that hole. But you are no fixer. No Olivia Pope.  So yes, it’s not you. It’s him.

You cannot help but feel sorry for him. You, you will be fine. What you are going through is just a break up. It only means that you have to learn to live without him -how hard can that be? You give yourself two months, three tops. You will be remembering this day like it’s a page out of a history book. But him, he gets to live with his broken self for the rest of his life. You feel sorry for him.

You get your act together. You look at him one last time. At that face that lay beside you for a long time. You look at that jaw line that you traced with your finger after nights of intimacy. You look at those hands that got to touch every part of you on many occasions. You look at the face of history. With a straight face, you say goodbye. You take a precise calculated step from your past, and step into your future. For some reason, that feels weirdly good. You are walking into a galaxy full of stars and constellations. It is ready for you. Your future is ready for you.

Damn! However you look at it, you have to agree with me that there is power in goodbye.

You now can put a name to that strange feeling you had at the back of your mind. It is not regret. It is not hatred. It is not anger. It is relief!

And yes, Md and I are no more. And life is for the living, not the walking dead.

I am alive.

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