"The best people possess a feeling for beauty, the courage to take risks, the discipline to tell the truth, the capacity for sacrifice. Ironically, their virtues make them vulnerable; they are often wounded, sometimes destroyed" - Ernest Hemingway
It began overnight. I had just returned home from a painfully long year at school and an exhausting but thrilling european adventure. The return home to my safe place allowed me to feel what I was ignoring while in school. I was beyond frustrated with my inability to meet people, specifically men. I confessed this to my sister and brother in-law, to which they suggested an dating app. I decided to try it as a last resort that night. Within days of experimenting with the app, I met him.
The day was grey. I was still recovering from jet lag as I sat on the wooden stool facing the wet outside world. I arrived early so there wouldn't be that awkward who buys the coffee thing. I sat patiently praying he would look like his picture. He did. He was tall, handsome, blue eyes, stylish and suave. He had a sense of humour and seemed adventurous. He came across as driven and successful, and was easy to talk to. I felt a connection right away. The coffee date ended and we parted ways. In less than five minute I received a text asking, “so do I get to see you again?” We agreed to a second date, and it was after the afternoon at the beach, ordering pizza togo, grabbing beer and watching the sunset together that we seemed to just “know”.
Within weeks the words “I love you” were uttered and about a month when the word marriage was discussed. I was told that not long after our second date he knew he was going to marry me. For any other person perhaps all of this could have been construed as red flags if only because of the speed in which this all took place. But for me, I was assured by the type of person he was and the depth of his professed love that I was blinded to absurdity of it all. Our culture loves catchphrases like “ when you know you know” and “it was meant to be.” They float around dulling senses to warning signs that perhaps appear along the way.
I fell madly, head over heals in love. He wooed me, made me feel alive and like I was the only woman in the world. He loved me deeply. Traditionally in the past I have been guarded, perhaps mostly because of my endless list of “must haves” for a potential suitor. But that being said once someone has been “cleared” I am the type of person to throw caution to the wind and ride solely on how I feel. Looking back I now know I am blinded by feelings. This characteristic I believe can be a positive quality - it outlines a character that experiences empathy and compassion very easily, but this personality trait also makes a person vulnerable to heartache.
As the summer days burnt away and the seasons began to change, a shift in our relationship was about to take place. We would transition to a long distance relationship built around nightly Skype dates, countless phone calls and endless text messages. We flew back and forth numerous times all for a valuable investment. I was certain. I knew things weren't perfect, but I also knew that nothing is. Never once did I question his faithfulness or love when we were apart. He made me feel confident in our relationship despite a few struggles along the way.
Marriage talk was put into action as rings were tried on and visions of our wedding day began to take shape. He worked relentlessly saving for the perfect engagement ring even though I assured him that I would gladly accept a string around my finger - all I wanted was him. But his ideas were more fanciful than mine and on December 21st I had one of the most beautiful rings around my finger promising marriage.
I didn’t take that decision lightly. When he said he loved me, that I was his best friend and then asked if I would marry him, I knew what I was committing to. When I made up my mind, I made up my mind. I chose, and I would keep choosing even throughout a string of inflicted heartache. As we left the coffee shop where we met 6 months prior, and where he had just proposed we had no idea the decline that we would face just a few months down the road. Christmas was filled with so much joy, and excitement, as hope began to build around our future together. But like every other Christmas season, this one came to an end. Which meant I would fly to Winnipeg and he would return to Alberta and our long distance relationship would commence yet again.
Without divulging too many personal details, we both struggled in the winter. I had a health scare that shook my mental health and he was dealing with his own challenges that affected his everyday life. Deciding to return home he left for BC, and I bravely finished my semester in Manitoba. The completion of my year end recital was one of my greatest accomplishments. I felt shaken to the core emotionally and mentally, but somehow, by the grace of God I survived it. This final concert signalled the beginning of a new chapter, and it meant I got to come home to be with my love and start preparing for our life together. I packed a few things to return to BC to start planning our wedding. I had purchased my wedding dress in the winter, and could not wait to try it on again. It was EVERYTHING I wanted in a dress, it was elegant and I felt like it was made for me. I loved the way I felt in it and I knew he would think I was beautiful.
We aimed to be married by Aug 29th, so planning strategically was essential. But for whatever reason, we kept bumping heads, and planning felt particularly challenging. I started to feel like I became a source of frustration to him as soon as I returned home. I sensed something was different, but couldn't place what. I couldn’t seem to do anything right, and I began to wonder what happened to the man I fell in love with who thought the world of me.
We couldn’t seem to communicate well anymore - perhaps we became too accustomed to solely picking up cues between computer screens and this real life business was a whole different ball game. We pressed on and of course between the challenges we had moments of laughter and enjoyment, which I think those propelled us forward, because those moments were so good. Both our walls would come down and we just loved each other for who we were when were good.
One fateful evening at an event we both attended… our trust was broken. We both were dressed to the nines, I was wearing a floor length gown and felt beautiful. He looked particularly handsome in his bow tie and suspenders. The day was intense, we helped prepare for the event and it caused a bit of tension to arise. Later that evening he for whatever reason blatantly lied to me, and assured me he didn't give a female employee his number. I trusted him though, despite my intuition telling me otherwise and I tried to assume the best. Because, why would he do that? I wanted to believe I was enough, and why would he compromise the integrity of our relationship for someone he just met? It wasn’t until a week later that he confessed he did in fact give her his number and met her for coffee.
The word hurt doesn’t quite do my feelings justice that day. I have always been of the mindset that honesty is the best policy and I expect it from those I care about… This shattered whatever trust I had. I became skeptical and distrusting after that. I wondered who he was texting and why he didn't call. The bubble I lived it was tainted, and now our love suffered. I still don't understand why that happened, why he felt he had to hide it from me - if indeed his intentions were solely business based. I am a trusting person by nature. I try to assume the best and see the best in people. So my reaction of distrust was uncomfortable and felt unnatural for me.
I was made to feel like my distrust was solely my problem. But looking back, I had very little to do with it. A lie has so much power, it seeps into everything and eats away at integrity. Despite the hurt I felt, I sought to invest into the relationship because at the time I had a ring on my finger and still felt in my heart I wanted to see this thing through. The way I saw it was that the poor decision he made could force us to grow stronger. It didn’t have to define our relationship and with a little effort and work this curse could turn into a blessing.
His reaction to this mess up was to pull away - maybe from shame? Which was the opposite reaction I desperately needed. I needed to feel like I mattered, and was invaluable to him. I wanted to know that he was remorseful and see it, not just hear it. I needed to see that he loved me, not just heart it. Because, words can hide a lot, as I became very aware of that weekend. Of course there were times where we felt close, but as a general theme for that stage in our engagement, distance is the word I would use to describe it. He was hard to reach. I wondered what I was doing wrong. The ache I felt from this sat like a rock in my stomach. He was my best friend, the person I told my secrets to, the person I trusted, and the person I hoped in. The wedge that he was allowing between us was slowly killing me, and I wondered why he didn’t seem to care. I have two tendencies that I am aware of: when someone pulls away I want to pull away in an effort to protect myself, but I also, sometime strive that much harder to try to make up for the lack of investment on the other end. These characteristics produce a weird tug-o-war of emotions.
Looking back I wonder why I stayed. But I know my default is to hope, and I believed wholeheartedly that the man I fell in love with and who fell in love with me was still in there...somewhere. I realize now that I don't give up easily. I will suffer for something I believe in. I wonder how much heartache could have been saved if this weren't true.
“You say you love rain, but you use an umbrella to walk under it. You say you love sun, but you seek shelter when it is shining. You say you love wind, but when it comes you close your windows. So that's why I'm scared when you say you love me.” -Bob Marley
We struggled to find our footing for a few months after that, and couldn't ever quite get it back. He continued to pull away while I felt like I was left trying to pull him back into our relationship. At one point shortly after the phone number incident I told him to “step up or step out.” Something I thought would be a no-brainer, and was really a desperate plea for him to try harder. But his reaction surprised me and cut me to the core. He chose step out. I threw down the phone and sobbed for an hour, I couldn’t breathe, I hyperventilated for what felt like an eternity... I felt like I was loosing my mind. Somehow I fell asleep that night and woke up to a text message from him saying he would regret it if he didn’t give it a second shot and suggested counselling. In a moment I felt like I could breath again. I felt like my silent prayers were answered.
After the phone break up we met the next day and talked about our problems. He still seemed to need convincing, and I became became a cheerleader and willingly convinced. We rekindled our love for a short while, even seeing a pastor for counselling. This only happened once, as if this would be a quick fix. I still felt like there was a wedge somewhere between us and I couldn’t find it to get rid of it.
In my head, all of our good memories were on replay, they flooded my judgment and made me see solely the potential in our relationship. I wanted to get back to where we started, and I wanted to discover new depth to our love. I was willing, I hoped that my effort would be enough to inspire him to be willing too. My heart was consumed with trying to fix what was broken and became frustrated with the lack of investment he seemed to have. Despite this, we pressed on, and I willed us on.
One weekend we road-tripped to Alberta from BC to attend a wedding. I had gotten to a point just prior that made me feel like I had hit the breaking point. I had nearly found enough courage and strength to end it. When the conversation came up, all will vacated my body and I was left standing in the cold inflicting more pain on myself and maybe him. I think my hope was that the thought of losing me would be enough to inspire change. But I learned that his reaction to my pleading was to recoil and distance himself even more from me, when I needed so badly the opposite. We somehow survived that weekend, and manoeuvred past source of the problem somehow and again pressed forward.
I’m not sure what I was sensing all this time. Things were definitely different than the way they started. Maybe I didn't take into consideration that the “honeymoon” stage ends… I guess the type of love he professed he had for me made me believe it wouldn’t and that we would be that passionate couple for years to come. What seems to be the pivotal moment in all of this was my arrival home from school. We were no longer provinces apart, we were a mere 45 minutes and for some reason this triggered the change, and maybe I’ll never really know or understand the reason why.
We had one more wedding to attend together, this time it was on the coast and I was in the wedding party. The weekend was wonderful. He seemed to be making an effort, and I felt like he was investing again. He took time to talk with the people I care about and made them feel important. Overall the weekend was exactly what I thought we needed. The week after we arrived back home, he was terribly busy and I didn't seem much of him, until the Friday when he came to visit me at work.
He walked into the show home, handsome as ever. He hugged and kissed me, and smiled. For a moment, I felt nothing was amiss. This greeting however, was deceptive. It was an unfair way to start the worst hour and a half of my life.
We sat and talked for a few minutes, quickly I could sense something was wrong. He seemed off - very distant. He was talking in a way that made my heart race and panic to start to swell in my chest. After a long conversation of a back and forth continuation of the “convincing” conversation I had become so good at, he said he wanted to break up. He helped me to my car, (I was hysterical) and within a minute he asked for the ring back. All I could do was stare at him. I couldn’t believe the nightmare I was living in. I didn’t know what happened, or why it happened. I didn’t understand, because through my eyes, things seemed fine.
I discovered the debilitating weight of a broken heart that day as he left me sobbing and heartbroken with a finger that felt naked like it was missing a limb, it served as a constant reminder of what was. Forced to drive myself home I could barely see through my tears.
My heart hurt. Actually I don't know if there exists a word that encompasses the feeling of a truly broken heart. Hurt doesn't seem to do it justice. It sounds petty and flippant. I couldn't seem to function, which I really hate to admit. I was suffering, desperate for relief.
On a whim I vacated and left for the Coast to stay with friends in an attempt to find peace, and healing. The week I spent with my people was spent discussing my heartache, and being consumed with the pain I was in. I felt like I was a shell of a person, a ghost of my former self. I couldn’t taste food, (which is especially upsetting when your friend is a chef) colour was dull, and anything I took pleasure in was tainted with the depth of pain I was feeling. The solace I was seeking didn't come, I could barely find a degree of it. You know those weighted vests they make you wear when you have an x-ray? I felt like I was constantly wearing one of those, only it was a super thick, and heavy one that I couldn't take off. One night that week, I received a text message saying, “I miss you.” My heart, too tired from the pain didn’t even flip flop. I didn't know what to do with this information. For a moment I felt like I was a toy being played with. But despite this feeling, I couldn't help but feel a degree of hope.
Arriving home I had a life plan in place that would set me on an entirely new path, a path where I wouldn't finished my degree, I would stay home and try to heal and save money to reposition myself on a new career path. All this was decided before I made the decision to meet him two days later. I planned to hand him a letter I had written over the last week expressing my thoughts and to ask a few questions that had been weighing heavily on my heart. What could have been a 20 minute meeting evolved into a 2 hour conversation and dinner, and somehow we were back together? I am still not sure how that happened exactly. I didn't go into the meeting with that intention at all. But the result was that I truly smiled for the first time in a week and a half, I could taste food and I felt again. My heart felt like it was redeemed.
He seemed like his old self and like our love had been rekindled in that week and a half apart. The romance was back, the effort was back, my best friend was back. My heart was cautious despite this but so terribly in love that it again, was stupid. We tried to start things slow, but within weeks it was like the break-up didn't happen at all, at least for him. I still have scars from it.
For the months of August and September, we were excellent. I was working, and focusing on growing my business and rebuilding our relationship. I felt like we were understanding each other better, and he was making the effort I had been needing him to make for so long. As with anything in life, problems arise - this time I thought we were tackling them with new maturity- together! My heart was starting to settle and that trust that was tainted was starting to rebuild.
This time the pivotal moment in our downward spiral was at another event I was working at. He was terribly chatty with a girl friend of mine, and sadly flashbacks of that moment in May flashed before my eyes and blinded me with worry, hurt and poor judgement. I made a big deal about something that was silly. I tried to recognize the journey that I had been on over the last few months and appreciate the wounds that still needed healing in my heart. This reaction of mine didn’t sit well with him. He began to pull away again after that.
Two weeks down the road he was about to go on a road trip with his brother. The night before he took me on a date - only I think I paid, he forgot his wallet. But it was his idea which at the time made me very happy. We chatted for hours at the pub and enjoyed each others company. One of the conversations that came up was the state of my heart, and how I needed a little bit of extra courtesy because I was still recovering from all the heartache of the summer. He seemed to comprehend this, and listened to me. Our date was lovely, I felt like a million bucks and like he was really seeing me. The night came to an end and the next day started, bringing in confusion and disillusionment.
That weekend I guess I made the mistake of requesting one too many phone calls or being too needy? I apparently wasn't respecting the “boys weekend” even though I truly truly felt I was making a conscious effort to lay off. I did my best to not impose or expect too much. But that being said, I still expected to hear from him, just one phone call. That was what was always done before whenever we were apart. He would call! For some reason this was a source of irritation for him that weekend. We at some point talked things out and things resumed at their normal speed but I think he allowed that minor thing to eat away at him and us.
When he arrived home, I was excited to see him, it had been 4 days. I put in extra effort that day, curled my hair, wore heels and everything! I walked into the house excited but he didn’t rush to see me. When he finally appeared around the corner he hugged me and we kissed but the energy level was particularly subdue. I felt a little hurt and also sensed something was wrong or off. I pried. I tried to get him to open up and talk. But he didn't bite. I finally got so frustrated I shutdown and as if on cue he started to open up and wanted to talk. I think he sensed he had pushed me too far. He finally started to be honest about his frustrations, and again I played the convincing game with him. We seemed to settle and reach some sort of common ground and I decided to began to adjust my expectations.
I came to the decision that week that I would appreciate the new stage we were in- whatever comes after the honeymoon stage. I'd respect that he needs his alone time, and I needed to relax and trust him and where his heart is at. I came to this conclusion on my own and was happy and honestly excited to implement it, because I was choosing to see this as a good thing. Our relationship was growing past stage one and needed to mature into stage two. I was eager to make that work.
That week I didn’t see much of him, until Saturday when he arrived at my house and we visited. Things seemed to be settling, and the frustration the week prior was gone. My family interacted with him and sensed nothing amiss. That week I was about to ask if we could make things "social media official" which seems painfully stupid now.
Monday rolled around and he was out of town, I barely heard from him at all that day. I got worried when I called three times in the evening and didn't get an answer. That wasn't common. Plus, isn't it courtesy to just answer and say, “hey, can’t talk right now - call ya in a bit?” Then when we finally talked, he seemed distant and began bringing up children and how he wasn't sure if he wanted any. Whhhat?? Where did that come from? This had come up on occasion but in a low key kind of way.
I am told now he has never really wanted kids. But multiple times over the last year he said, “I didn't want kids before I met you.” So naturally I believed this wasn't an issue. Suddenly the gulf between us widened and I couldn't cross it, I couldn't even throw a rock over to the other side. We barely talked the next day until a late night phone call. He wanted me to respond to this new perspective he adopted in regards to kids but I wasn't prepared to make that decision that day. We were, up until this point, moving forward I thought and this felt like an ultimatum that came out of left field. We had made exciting plans for November and things were coming together. I am apparently blind and love stupid because he started to express that he was feeling the same way he did in the summer. At one point in the conversation he said “I don't want to break up over the phone.” I don't remember much after that comment expect the fact that it infuriated me and that my panic button had been hit. I couldn’t walk down that road again. I couldn’t be hurt again! I invested so much into this relationship, and this person. I had continually proven how much I loved him. Why was this happening again???
“you never know how strong you are until being strong is your only choice.”
-Bob Marley
As my head was spinning and the shock set in that he was considering breaking up with me. I didn't even think or pause I just reacted and took that satisfaction away from him. I ended it. I wish I could remember what I said, but my heart was beating so loudly I couldn't hear the words that came out of my mouth. I didn't want or expect that to happen, my hurt heart felt it was backed into a corner and forced to make that painful decision. I wonder now, if he planted that "no kids" talk to force me into making that decision so he didn't have to make it again.
For the next 24 hours I was in shock - good shock, what I had done hadn't really settled on me yet. I was functioning! I went out in public and put makeup on. But... this was a false sense of peace.
The next month my heart would twist and moan in endless agony. I would cry myself to sleep countless nights, wake up early to dreams of him, lie awake thinking about good memories, and what I could have done differently. I had been through this before… but previously I had a lifeline of peace that surged through me, however small it was. I couldn't find that. I wished with all my might that it was all a bad dream, that I’d wake up and be able to run into his arms again. But the waves that forced me to remember, crashed with such force, and at such inopportune times that the first week felt like the ghost of Alexa inhabited my body… I still feel that sometimes. I felt like all the good parts of my heart were miles away and I was just left with the parts that were sick or dying. There were times when my discouragement was so thick I couldn't even think about tomorrow. Isn't it strange after an incredible hurt, you feel invincible… or maybe invincible is the wrong word. Maybe its more fearless. After loosing something priceless, you would think that the first instinct would be to batten down the hatches and be fearful of everything, but I felt more like I have nothing to loose. I truly didn't know this kind of heartache exists, or naively think it would ever happened to me. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.
I couldn’t help but feel it was all a terrible mistake. That somehow, there has been some error. But I woke up each day, and each sunrise pulled me farther and farther away from him. I genuinely believed we could get through anything. We had survived a dramatic year of distance, trials and challenges that I believed we came out stronger for. I believed whole heartedly that we could weather anything. Perhaps what was missing was his ability to choose me whole heartedly. I don't know what it was, when it was, but somewhere along the way he second guessed his initial certainty and allowed me to believe it was still there. Where I believe that struggle incepts strength, maybe he believed that struggle was a sign of weakness.
“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing.
At other times it feels like being mildly drunk, or concussed. There is a sort of invisible blanket between the world and me. I find it hard to take in what anyone says. Or perhaps, hard to want to take it in. It is so uninteresting. Yet I want the others to be about me. I dread the moments when the house is empty. If only they would talk to one another and not to me.”
― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed
Some days are better than others… but the reality is that letting go is really hard. It sounds so simple. But when so much of yourself is tied to another person that doesn't want you… what do you do with that? It feels like drowning, or like being forced to purchase a one way ticket to live in a foreign land with reminders home everywhere, but no way to get back there. Someone said that “grief is the final act of love, where there is great grief there was great love.” This quote is both soothing and uncomfortable at the same time. I wonder often if he is grieving me? Or if he is simply relieved to be free from the relationship, in which case, I was deceived about his love.
Over the last few months, grieving has become a place of residence for me. I feel its waves crash over me periodically. Vicki Harrison is quoted to say this about grief, “Grief is like the ocean; it comes on waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim.”
I think we sometimes want our grief to be unique and feel more deeply than anyone else's. But it is immeasurable. Grief is a subject that the world is well aware of, and is accustomed to. Books have been written, songs have been sung, paintings have been painted all through the lens of heart-wrenching loss.
“I thought I could describe a state; make a map of sorrow. Sorrow, however, turns out to be not a state but a process.”
― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed
I remember trying to explain to him the pain I was in when we broke up the second time - I said it was like death. He just sort of shrugged that statement off and said something along the lines of “it couldn't have been that bad…” I don’t know if this kind of pain could be felt by him?
My reality now is this:
I am a single girl in her late twenties with a battered heart, who has most of her degree completed in a subject that she no longer is passionate about, she lives in an area where all her friends have families and husbands and the town is anything but a hub for twenty somethings. This reality feels very bleak. But I am trying desperately to rise above it, and find hope in the future, and, like CS Lewis said, “there are far better things ahead than any we leave behind.”
All along, throughout this whole journey I have been on, I have really only wanted one thing. I have wanted to find someone to love and to love me in return. I wanted to find my hot best friend, the person I would grow old with, the person I could make laugh and smile, and the person who would love me through it all. The sad part is I truly thought I did.
All of this feels not at all like the pattern of my life. I look around and I feel disoriented and fearful. I know I need to trust that God is in control in this. But that action is terribly hard to do when you’re operating on empty.
So many times over the last month, the only place where I have found any peace is on my knees in prayer, and countless prayers have crossed these lips when his name crosses my mind. I know countless more will. I look back on this year, and I’m perplexed by it. I don't hate him, I don't even dislike him. I don't know if I could. I just hurt by what I was lead to believe to be true.
To think, all of this happened in just over a year... my life has been turned upside down. It doesn't look at all familiar, but that being said, it feels designed, it feels like God is allowing this for some reason. It's hard to admit and hard to trust despite that feeling but I really have no choice.
This is my side of the story. I’ve tried to be objective, I’ve tried to not drench these words in my heartache. Bits and pieces have been left out, things were neglected to be discussed, I’ve forgotten some details, but overall this is an accurate account from my perspective of this last year. These words may resonate with someone, they might just come across as self pity, but it is my hope that the depth of love that I had is evident and that God’s strength is seen. I don’t know who's eyes are going to see this, or if this story is really worth telling. But my heart has needed to put all of this on paper, and I confess that it longs solidarity.
At times I’ve wished that this had never happened. I’m trying to appreciate the perspective that from this perspective, of course I’d wish that. But, God never wastes a hurt, and I am going to cling to that, and trust that this all ties into God’s master plan and live my life with open hands.
"I have held many things in my hands, and I have lost them
all; but whatever I have placed in God's hands, that I still
possess." Martin Luther King Jr
all; but whatever I have placed in God's hands, that I still
possess." Martin Luther King Jr
“For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11
As I force my feet to take me forward, away from October 27 2015, I’m putting on a new attitude about this hole in my heart. This extra space will either give opportunity for something else to come in and fill it or it will give opportunity for my heart to grow in its capacity to love. I don’t know what tomorrow holds, or whether or not I’ll see him again. I don’t know if or when that meeting will happen if the stitches I’ve used to mend my heart back together will come undone, or if it will expedite the healing process. I don’t know what God has in store for him or for me. I can only hope and trust that the best is yet to come.
