I am officially “That Crazy Girl,” “That Obsessive Girl,” “That Girl Who Will Not Let Go.”
Everyone’s heard of me: My boyfriend breaks up with me; I stalk him, I cannot let go of my grief, cannot let go of my love for him, cannot move on. I cry and write love poems in my head that never see the light of day; write letters never sent. I take photos for him, pour for long, long moments over whether or not to post them to him on Instagram. I peek into his Facebook page and Twitter profile, searching for any small glimpse of him and his life, every joy of his another crushing pain; I miss him excruciatingly. I become wildly and irrationally jealous – despite myself, unlike myself! – cruelly self-abasing, angry, destructive because I just cannot understand how he would leave – because I cannot allow myself to let go of what I feel for him.
I become the worst that I am, the best that I am in maddening fits of fear and loss, because I cannot be what I cannot be: I am in love, and love is maddening when spent alone, a relationship of one will tear that One in two.
My love, and everything that was once kind and beautiful and sweet between us destroys me, destroys us, because I cannot deal with this pain.
Because I cannot trust him; and I seek to kill the last of the trust he has for me; I would kill all trust that exists, ever, that he become as desperate as I for another way.
My sanity in my own sanity drives me so intensely that I would make myself mad with pain and grief just to hunt down the center of this pain in me, this problem that has caused him to leave, to somehow existentially understand and come to a resolution, to take responsibility for both of us, so I can let him leave. So I can know who I am and why this soul-crushing pain eats away at me.
So I can find some peace.
I am the one who goes deeper than anyone, who hunts in my darkest places for the sources of my trials and tribulations. Who, as a storyteller, will make up all kinds of stories, just to kill in myself whatever emotions drive me.
Just so he’ll come back to me, embrace me, love me. Remember me. Remember us. Remind me of what love is, what life is.
So, where is this going? How do we get over love, or loss of love?
The answer is: We don’t.
We keep loving. Despite the pain. Despite the misunderstanding. Despite everything.
Find that one thing that keeps you alive – and, if you can’t find what used to keep you alive, keep hunting. Something, something will drive you. Something will keep you alive, long enough to come back to yourself.
Cry. Create. Breathe. Meditate. Go to the ocean. Laugh. Talk it out. Go numb. Work. Scream. Go mad. Do anything.
SAY ANYTHING.
You’ll find your peace, when you’re done aching. When you’ve come to terms with the aching, burning, the questioning.
And, in that peace, you’ll find that you still love. Even if you’re angry. Even if you still miss him or her. Even if all hell breaks loose around you.
Chances are… you’ll have found out more about yourself, too. Because, no matter what else it does…
Love grows.
Oceans of Mine 