Right now, the words “moving on” feel unbearably heavy. Right now, words that are meant to encourage you seem to never land, sliding off the cold shield that is your pain. “If that is true, then why did they leave?”
Right now, the concept of “finding someone else” feels like a hopeless endeavor in which you want no part. “I didn’t want someone else; I wanted them.” And now that they are gone, you want to forget them, but a cruel tether of nostalgia pulls you back to feelings that you don’t wish to feel.
Right now, what hurts the most is the fact that you let them see you; you let yourself be really, truly seen. You gave them the best you had to give, all you had to offer, and that makes the sting of goodbye so much worse. Worse because that sense of safety is betrayed, and worse because it feels like your best was not enough.
Right now feels so powerful, so immeasurable and weighty that it seems as though your world has fundamentally changed. Right now feels like a colder, crueler place to live, and in it, you feel jaded, tired, and broken.
But the thing is, this “right now” is today, and tomorrow is coming. Today, it feels like you will never find someone like them, you will never feel that way again. But tomorrow holds a happy promise. I’m writing to remind you of that promise: that good times are coming, times where you feel loved again, whole again, times where you feel new.
But to get there, to get to that tomorrow, you first have to challenge the narrative you’ve been writing, the circles you’ve been spinning around why they’re gone. You may be pointing to your every “imperfection” or insecurity as the thing that made them finally leave. You may be listing all the reasons you were not enough, or were “too much.” You may be wondering if what you felt was even real, if it even mattered all.
Let me say this loud and clear: they did not leave because you were not enough to keep them. You are brilliant, beautiful, and very much enough. You are one of a kind, a beloved masterpiece carefully crafted by your creator. Don’t insult your worth by believing it’s staked to a single person’s view of you. The fact that this ended, that this once seemingly-forever-type-of-love has ended, says nothing about your inherent value. It ended because it wasn’t right, and there was nothing you could do to change that.
Relationships end in a variety of ways and for a variety of reasons. They end when one falls out of love with the other; they end when both decide it’s for the best; they end when one or both are deeply hurt by the other. Each has its own unique strain of grief, each is painful in its own taste of pain.
Maybe they were mean, maybe they were cruel. Maybe they were kind and good. Most certainly, they were some combination of vice and virtue, but the fact of the matter is, it doesn’t really matter who they were, because this is YOUR story. This is the novel you get to star in, and you get to decide what your next chapter holds.
It’s okay to cry, to scream, or to binge watch Netflix and eat a box of chocolates. It’s okay to mourn, to be angry, hurt, or even numb. But some day, maybe next week or next month or next year, some day this aching pain will lessen, and soon after that, this chapter will close. You will know that page has turned–not because you are now somehow immune to this strain of heartbreak–but because you have decided that what was past is not better than what’s to come. You will have seen that good times are coming, and you’ll believe that you can be whole again.
When that time comes, you’ll know that you are not alone. You’ll see that this is not a gaping hole in your heart, but rather a place you now get to fill with beautiful, lovely, wonderful things. You will plant flowers in the places they once stood, and soon you’ll watch those flowers bloom.