Severing the Heart

“There are things that we never want to let go of, people we never want to leave behind. But keep in mind that letting go isn’t the end of the world, it’s the beginning of a new life.” -unknown

 

For three years of my life, I felt vibrantly alive. More alive than I’ve ever felt, before or since. Every single day, for better or worse, was an adventure. I would wake up in the morning and my first thought never changed, although it felt like a revelation every time. Each emotion I had trembled through me; every feeling I had, magnified to an almost unbearable degree. Music and food had a new, deeper sweetness. The air smelled different, and the most mundane things in life took on new meaning. It was as if I had my heart and eyes taken from me and had them cleaned by a professional and then given back and suddenly I saw the world for the first time. All this when I never knew they were dirty in the first place. In all my life experience and reading up until that point, I hadn’t realized that it was possible to feel this way. I’d read about falling in love and, in all honesty, scoffed at the Shakespearean drama of it all. But I had fallen in love. Hopelessly. Irretrievably. Inescapably.

Now, two years after that three-year period of my life, I realize that once you truly fall in love, you don’t ever really have a moment where you fall out. You can leave, you can dwell on all the awful reasons that made you leave, you can even dislike the person in question very much…but you won’t ever stop loving them. They snuck in when you weren’t looking and took up permanent residence in your psyche. As you begin to forget them, and even as their piece of property in your mind shrinks around them, they are busy searching for a smaller, less visible patch of mind to occupy, until one day you resignedly allow them a small lot in the back acre of a forgotten farm. When you share certain parts of life with another person, when you go through serious loss together, struggle financially, attempt to buoy each other up when life is wearing you down, when you eat at least two meals a day together every day for years – a bond is created that shall always remain. Your life is changed forever, all just by caring for one other person in life. It’s remarkable, really. How we ever take entering into marriage lightly is beyond me…but then, I’m speaking from a place of experience and perspective.

It is such a profoundly strange thing to end a long-term relationship with someone, despite the frequency of its occurrence. It is one of those things that happens every day, so we become immune to its power. Like the sun rising, or just the mere fact that we are alive, thinking and breathing in and out. In a rare, non-hectic moment at work, I was struck by how odd it felt to have little pieces of my heart left behind in various places and how remarkable it is that I, myself, most likely hold a few pieces that belong to others.

We unload untold amounts of ourselves into a relationship. Sharing silly thoughts and random, private stories in those quiet moments before falling asleep, or the softness of that sweet morning light. When the beginning part calms and you begin to take it for granted that the other person will be interested in your little, daily stories; the real sharing takes play.You find out how your partner deals with commonplace things, like work stress and family events. They learn your unique little habits; like how you always tap your left foot when you think about bills, how you lean your forehead against the window when you’re sad, or how you absentmindedly play with a tiny strand of your hair when lost in a serious daydreaming session. You reveal things about yourself you never wanted to or never even thought to share with your friends. All the while, like it or not, the two of you become ever closer.

You begin to promise each other things. On one of those evenings (those evenings when the sun has just gone down and you’ve both crawled into bed after a long, busy day) when you’re both grateful for the stillness, you draw close together for a lazy hug. One of you whispers, “Promise I’ll never go to sleep by myself again.” A whisper comes back, low and gentle with meaning, “Never. I promise.” Or it’s an outing with friends you attend and it’s with another couple that argues loudly and endlessly. They are obviously nearing some kind of ending. You look at each other and squeeze hands simultaneously, eyes full of promises to never be like that. You talk and laugh about it later, high on your current success, and gleefully dreaming of a bright future in love, you play-fight all the way up the stairs to your newest apartment.

Later, out of sheer boredom, you find yourselves doing things you never thought of before. Like lying on your front lawn, pointing out satellites or falling stars. Talking all night long until neither of you know who fell asleep first. Harmonizing lazily together while he learns a Bob Dylan tune on the classical guitar you bought last year. Walking idly around the nearest library. Playing Try-To-Guess-The-Number-I’m-Thinking game. Seriously. You get bored!

And one day, it’s all over.

Simple. Fast. Final. Like the door to your childhood home slamming in your face, you are never ready for it and the ache will always linger in some form or fashion. Even with copious warning signs; the incessant fighting, not touching while you sleep, no longer maintaining eye contact, and eating dinner in oppressive and total silence – nothing prepares you for that severed cord. It’s grief, it’s loss. The severity of the loss is directly related to the amount of yourself you ended up sharing. And while the pain and hurt fade and even disappear with the relentless but welcome erosion of time, that piece of you will always be gone.

It’s fascinating and unbelievable to me how this process happens. Even more so, how it happens over and over again. To tear off that piece time and again creates a new worry. What will be left of you when it’s all said and done?

I have a girlfriend (a sweet, energetic, and wonderful girl) who refuses to have an ex-boyfriend disappear. She, being the wonderful person I just described, places the utmost importance on not burning a single bridge. I don’t know how she does it. I’m most certainly not friends with even one of my exes! But she, even in her young age, has made this a huge focus in her life for the very reasons I’m discussing. The idea of losing people she’s given any part of her heart to makes her sick. And I think we all know why.

I really don’t have a succinct bubble to wrap this particular meandering up in. Like the subject at hand, I’m left and leaving you with more questions then answers. Sometimes, things are just the way they are. And even when you look at these endings as a valuable learning experience, you are still left standing there, hands open and awkwardly full of these various emotions, asking plaintively,

“Hey, I get it, but seriously, what do I do with these??”

In my experience, absolutely nothing but time can answer that question. Time and a lot of pondering.

Like I said earlier, profoundly odd.

“Access to your true essence will also give you insight into the mirror of relationship, because all relationship is a reflection of your relationship with yourself.”  – Deepak Chopra