He Walks Away


The sun goes down.

He takes the day.

But I am grown.

My tears dry on their own.

And like that.

I am single again.

The man and I ended it last night.

Nine weeks to the day of our first date.

It felt longer.

I dare say because I was so present for so much of it.

Oh.

There were things, issues, stuff, the stuff of life, the things that happen, the shut down, me, I can shut down.  I can get silent, I can step away and my heart can break even when I know that there is no going backwards only forwards into that deep unknown of intimacy.

Into me you see.

Yes.

That.

When I am not being my self than I am not allowing for intimacy and boy have I learned a lot about myself over these past few months.

Again, really, it was just two months.

Jam packed months, my father’s accident, the trip to Anchorage and back, my birthday, Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Years, my sobriety anniversary.

I knew on my anniversary that it was over.

I knew last Friday that it was probably over after we had our get right with God conversation about what we both wanted from the relationship.

I am not going to focus on what he said to me, because that is not for your eyes, just for my heart and the confidence of a few close friends and mentors.

And thank God I made plans to be out dancing and celebrating my anniversary.

I was surrounded by people who love and care for me and told me how much they did and I was deeply moved, to tears, a number of times by the outpouring of love from my friends.

I am so lucky to have these relationships in my life.

I cannot help grieve that which is passing, I’m on the verge of crying right now, the grief it is very much there, sitting on top of my throat, heavy on my heart, but I know that I can walk through it and come out strong, more valuable and tempered, like steel in fire.

I have become that much more realized.

For having realized what I need in a romantic relationship.

Hell.

In all my relationships.

And that relationships, romantic or otherwise, take work.

Gobs and gobs and gobs of work.

It is easier to be single, I found out.

To do what I want, when I want, regardless of anyone else, to have my own agenda, to be safe, to be in a cocoon, to rest and take my leisure.

I want, however, to be in a relationship and I am going to keep dating.

I am not putting my heart up on a shelf to grow old and dusty and insensate with time.

Nope.

I mean, I’m not going to go re-open my OkCupid profile and I’m not going to Tinder and I am not going to go scroll through Face Book and find that special someone tonight.

My heart, she is sweet and needs to have a moment or two to let the man go.

Move aside and let the man go through, let the man go through.

To let go of the fantasy too.

He’s a perfect man.

I am a perfect woman.

And the relationship was exactly what it was supposed to be.

I can still have grief around it and sorrow and have feelings.

But I don’t want to wallow.

I don’t want to not put it right back out to the Universe.

Hey God, who do you want me to date, please show me and help me to move toward the man who you want me to be with.

A-fucking-men.

I didn’t know if I was going to write about it tonight after getting my dancing on with my friends at Public Works, which, in case you were wondering, was fantastic.

It started a little slow, but the groove was great and the Fleetwood Mac remixes and disco beat with a little Northern Stomp and Detroit four on the floor, was a delight to get my hips moving.

I needed that.

I needed that bad.

Sometimes a girl has to dance.

Sometimes a girl has to cry.

I’ll do that too.

I did a bit today, it would come and go in waves.

The sun on my face as I sat and ate lunch at an open table in the cafe and suddenly my eyes start leaking.

Or when I showed up to see my girlfriends at Firewood Cafe.

I dreaded going.

I dreaded walking up the hill in the Castro to the restaurant, I did not want to tell them, although I had already told my three best girls, that the relationship was over.

Done.

Kaput.

No more.

Although he wants to be friends.

And that’s a possibility, a good likelihood, not now, I don’t think now is the time, we both need space.

In fact we agreed to no contact for 90 days.

Which is actually longer than we dated, but felt right when we were discussing it.

And as I mentioned, the conversation, that’s private, but the actions taken, the sincerity of the speech, the honesty, the showing the fuck up and wo (man’ing) up, the being brave and walking through, not doing it over the phone or in a text, but person to person and with integrity.

That was an amazing experience.

Painful?

Fuck yes.

Jesus.

Please.

Bring me the box of tissue ok.

But honest, sincere, right-minded, real, I am blown away by how we both walked through it with the best of intentions and the most honesty that I have ever had in a break up.

I am extraordinarily grateful for that.

I sort of wanted to pat my teary self on the back for doing it and being open and allowing myself to be exactly there and me.

Well.

There was some self-deprecating humor on my part on one point, but really the levity was there and we parted ways clean.

It all feels very grown up and real.

Tiring too.

I am going to sleep better tonight I think; I hope.

It was hard to go to sleep last night and harder to stay in bed, I just got up and got moving.

I suspect I am going to have to sit in some feelings and not check out.

Just sit and feel them.

Let them pass through me and over me.

And when they go I will turn, stronger, face forward, and walk on.

Toward the man I am supposed to be with.

And when I meet him.

I will be ready.

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