I saw an old picture of me on Facebook, taken about a year ago. I was dining at The Perch, a swanky rooftop bistro in Los Angeles, drinking a glass of martini called The Writer's Block. I remember how lonely and sad I was that day, and how I finally get the term 'drink your sorrow away'. But that woman didn't know, her worse was yet to come.
In about two weeks after that day, she'll find out her husband's infidelity. She'll become the mad woman, the scorned wife. She'll have many altercations with her soon-to-be ex-husband, each that will cut her deep regardless how savage and how upper-handed she was. She'll be happy again, she'll love again, and she'll find her true self. But her broken glass slippers will cut and mangled her feet, and even a year after, she'll still find shards in her feet, and in her heart.
I have been told so many times to let him go. You deserve better, they say, you deserve to be happy. And I am. I am happy. I spent two nights in a row playing board game, laughing my heart out. I sleep whenever I want to, and cook any meal I want. Bus drivers who know me will honk and wave cheerily at me when they passed me on the road, and the regulars greet me happily when they saw me on the bus. I am prettier, healthier, and more confident these days. Yes, I am happy.
But then the memories came crashing in, and suddenly I will find myself in an emotional lockdown again, much too disturbed to move or to save myself. Even though I forgive him, even feeling sorry for him, even though I know what happened was inevitable, I still can't escape the pain of the past. No matter how many times I said to 'Let it go', it still drives me insane at times like now. March is the month where he crossed the line and set the separation in motion. May is the month he cheated on me. June is the month I found out about his infidelity. I still remember each date and what happened on the day of, and as those days came closer this year I found myself in the same emotional turmoil I faced when it happened last year.
Am I being stupid? I keep telling myself that as I write this, silently crying my heart out inside my cubicle. He's not worth it. I don't want him back. I am happy with who I am right now. It was not a good relationship. I deserve better. I worth more than what he thinks of me. But then why this heart is hurting so bad?
Because you can't put a price on love, that's why. Because regardless of how catastrophic the end of the relationship was, in the beginning, there was love. You can't logic this one out and wiped out the memories and feelings you have in an instant. It doesn't mean you still love the person, because I know I don't. Care for him, maybe, but I have no desire of having him in my life anymore. Not loving somebody anymore doesn't mean you can easily forget or let go of what you and that person have in the past. It is not a sign of weakness. It is a sign of how strongly you feel about that person, and it's perfectly fine.
I have tried to put everything behind, to not remember the butterfly in my stomach when I met him, or how good it feels to be in love with him. I have tried to not be angry at him every time I saw a loving post or two I made a few years back, courtesy of Facebook's "On This Day" app, or feeling duped and stupid for believing in him. I know it wasn't anyone intention to end up like this, it just how life is. Yet still I typed the silly question to my friend, "I am a good girl, right? A little crazy and can be difficult, but still a good girl, right?".
I was mum for so long, even though my closest friend knows what's going on. Beneath the laughter and the energetic attitude, there was a woman who was still trying to heal her wounds. I was not crazy for loving him. I was not weak for staying with him and understanding him. I am not embarrassed, I shouldn't be embarrassed to admit I am still hurting. It became pathological if it consumed my life, but seeing what a jolly person I normally am, I'd say a relapse now and then is still understandable. Despite the predicament that we're in right now, I used to love this man, dammit.
Interesting days will come when my Facebook feed shows pure love and excitement in the first two years we're together, the beginning of coldness in the third, and the full-blown madness on the fourth; all on the same date, just different years. Horrible days will come when my Facebook feed shows the madness I felt when I found out his affair, and when I tried hard to cope-up with it. Painful days will come when my Facebook feed shows me the process of us getting a visa together, and I will quietly ask myself again "why?" even though I know the answer.
There was no 'why'. It just happened. Sometimes relationship didn't work out. Sometimes love is just ain't enough. I've been hurt enough that I refuse to be hurt again by being embarrassed about how I feel. I loved him, and there is nothing wrong with that. I don't love him now, but that doesn't mean I have to erase everything about him. I can't, even if I manage to destroy and erase every single thing that linked me to him. What happened between me and him is a part of my life. If I still feel sad about it, if I still feel hurt, that is fine. It shows how much feeling I have for him. After all, he was, borrowing his words, my hopes and dreams. Love is not something to be ashamed of.
I would cry a bit more, I would weep in my sleep, but eventually, the wound will heal and the scar will beautify me, instead of hurting me like it is right now. I can take my time. There is no point of rushing it anyway. As a friend nicely pointed out: "Stop rebounding on your rebounds". I need to let it heal completely so I can be whole again, instead of becoming a patchwork doll, or one with the needle(s) still left inside that'll prick the next person that hold me tight. It took me 4.5 years and another woman to leave him physically, it's perfectly fine to take, say, another 4.5 years to leave him mentally. I'll get there someday, when the wound stop hurting and the tears stop falling. This year is obviously not the time, but I'll get there someday.
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