I took a walk yesterday evening. I'd been holding it all in, telling myself I had to be strong. But last night, I was tired of being strong. So I went for a walk.
There's a quiet road just down the hill from my house. I live in a rural area, but my street is relatively busy. It would not be suitable for my purpose. So I headed for that winding, picturesque road with a small notepad and a pencil.
Tuesday, my boyfriend ended our romantic relationship. Oh, but he was so much more than a boyfriend. He was, and still is, my best friend. I called him my soulmate. He was my first love.
He sent me a text Monday night saying we needed to talk... soon. I was already asleep, as I started my new job at 6 the following morning. I got the text before I left. I wasn't overly concerned, but I asked if anything was wrong. His reply was that it depended on how I looked at it. Now I was concerned. I went on break and tried calling. He had gone back to sleep, so I left a voice mail. When he got up, he sent another text and mentioned that it was about "us".
My entire being revolted against the reality I knew I had to face. I was sick to my stomach, physically ill all day. I couldn't eat. I held back the tears. I plastered on a smile. I fought not to break down right there in that diner. It's a wonder I didn't have an anxiety attack.
Really, I think it was a blessing in disguise that I was at work that day. I was forced to keep busy and think about other things. So by the time I got off and headed for his house, I had at least accepted the inevitable.
It had finally sank in what he had really gotten himself into. We were together a little over 3 months. We'd dated in high school. We had been friends before that. And even after that, we were still friends. Some people may say that wasn't long enough to know, but we had no doubts that we were made for each other.
We planned our future, talked about anything and everything you can imagine. Raising children, building our own house, writing our own vows. We were serious. Forever, we promised. Our love would be forever.
But I'm 18 and he 19. We're young. We haven't been out there yet. He ships out next April for basic training to be a Navy corpsman. He'll be gone for at least 5 years. He just felt that he didn't want a relationship right now. Not with anybody. He has a lot to figure out. And really, we both do.
I don't fault him. He broke my heart, and along with that, so many promises. But he didn't make them with the intention of breaking them. He didn't lie to me. He meant every word he said. But, in the words of Taylor Swift, people are people and sometimes we change our minds.
I'm not angry. Am I hurt? Absolutely. But that's a risk I took with my eyes wide open. And I would do it over again.
I hadn't allowed myself to grieve. I had to mourn what I had lost. I still have that friendship. It was a friendship before it was anything and it will be a friendship no matter what else.
But last night, the emotions I had bottled up began to overflow. So I cried. And I told myself it was okay. I had every right to be hurt and sad.
Crying helped. But it wasn't enough. Only a good walk would do. Crying and walking and praying and talking out loud. That was the only way to deal with everything I was feeling.
In that little notepad, I wrote everything that I had lost and needed to mourn. "I Love You" one said. "Honeymoon in New Orleans" another said. I set out on that journey fully bent on tearing those out phrase by phrase and dropping them into the creek, to say my final farewell.
What I didn't take into account is the fact that it's July. The creek was only a narrow stream. It wouldn't have the effect I desired. So I closed the notepad and, for now, it remains intact. Perhaps I'll save it for the ocean. Perhaps then I will be prepared to say goodbye. Because right now, I know, I'm not ready to let go.
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