Laying here in this room staring at the ceiling, at my phone, back at the ceiling.
I can hardly function in any other room. They all just remind me of him, of us.
This is the only place in the duplex we didn’t spend much time together. Every other room is painted in memories.
The kitchen sounds like laughter. I can still see his proud grin when he cooked our first meal here. Our first place together.
I try to escape to the couch, but all I feel there is uneasiness. It washes over me, attempts to drown me without any remorse. It’s the last place we sat together when we decided it was over.
The bathroom still smells like him. When I look in the mirror, I don’t see me. I see someone new. Someone I don’t recognize. It only reminds me over and over how blatantly lost I am. I stand there, staring into my own reflection, trying to remember the last time I did recognize myself. Trying to remember who I was before all of this. Before him. Before this love wrapped me up and gnawed away at me piece by piece.
And, the absolute last place I want to be is our bedroom. My bedroom. Every last memory of us is piled up, laying in our bed. My bed. There isn’t so much as an empty inch left for me to lay.
So, I lay here. In the spare room. Across the hall from where some of his clothes still taunt me. Where the sheets won’t come clean of him and everything I had wished we were.
I look down and realize he’s calling. I lay there, staring at his name through each and every ring. Willing myself to be strong.
Finally, the rings stop. One missed call and one intentional step closer to moving on.
Break ups… they suck.
We’ve all done it. Sometimes they’re one sided, sometimes they’re mutual. Sometimes you’re on the winning end, sometimes you feel like you’ve lost everything including yourself.
To be completely honest, during this particular time in my life, I wondered if I would survive it. I truly questioned if I’d ever turn around and realize it was actually behind me. If I would ever feel whole again. If I’d ever get over it.
I’m also not going to lie about being tempted more than once to give in to the temptation to stay the course. To turn my back on the change I deeply knew needed to happen.
Change is scary.
But, minute by minute, day by day, week by week, and finally, month by month… I realized, slowly but surely, that I had not lost myself in this loss. I had not been broken from this breakup.
I realized I lost myself in the relationship, I was far from whole as this person’s half.
I realized standing on my own two feet, alone, was the most whole I’d been in years.
Finally, I was able to look in the mirror and not only recognize the girl staring back, but I realized I liked her.
And now, a decade later, I thank God for the broken roads and unanswered prayers.