5/7/2016 – Chiny, Belgium
Listening now: Delilah – Strong for me
A few months ago, I wrote an article (which you can read here) while processing my break-up from the only serious relationship I’ve ever had, which also partly meant mourning my ex-boyfriend – or trying to, at least. Back in time, I remember feeling more and more distanced from him while being abroad, thanks to the ability of travelling to remote you from the things you have to deal with. Also, it felt like I went over it, as I barely thought about him anymore.
And then I came back to Belgium more and more regularly. Saw people I used to meet while being with him, and went back to places I used to go around during our relationship. For the first time in a long, long time, memories started to emerge, and with them, lots of emotions I thought I would never have to cope with anymore. It was like if everything reminded me of his absence, everywhere I went here. So I found myself like a complete psycho, tracking every single post of my ex-lover, anticipating all the events where he could be and, of course, losing my mind every single fucking time he would contact me – or answer kindly to one of my message, for that matter. I was helpless. Again.
Although I can clearly understand why this happened at that particular period of my life, as I was terribly vulnerable and more in need for love than ever, I was still mad about myself. Because even though in my head I could completely rationalize the fact that I wasn’t with that boy anymore, and explain why with reasonable reasons, there still was a tiny part of my heart which was fancying him, and secretely hoping he would come back some day. After all this time, I never succeeded to kill the hope and it felt like a total failure to be that desperate post break-up person again, when I thought that I was over it and used to mock badly those kind of people.
But still.. When I saw him for the first time in two years, and perceived that he was giving me some attention, I felt deeply recognized and somewhat important. When he stood for me publicly – for what felt like was the first time ever – and started to engage in a loooong conversation, to finally text me that he would love seeing me again soon and take the time for a deeper chit-chat.. I first felt hesitant. There was this part of myself which realised how
even more different we were from each other. The one that would also think that there was no good in meeting him again soon, at least not by our own. Unfortunately, that piece of my brain was quite tired that night and decided to answer later on.. Terrible idea. Also, it took me a day to process all the informations and try to clear my mind. Once again, I started to idealize our relationship and was all flatered that he would pay attention to me. Now let me have a word about idealization. I am not an expert of relationships (see by yourself), but if there is one thing I learnt during these 20 last years.. It’s that the magnification of any kind of thing is never a good thing. It blurs your perception of reality and is generally followed by a hard fall when you end up perceiving things as they really are. But enough disgress, let’s go back to the essential: So the stupid subdivision of my heart (or ego, I don’t know anymore) which was all flatered that he would pay attention to me went mental and decided that after all, it would be a wonderful idea to spend time together again. Oh my.. What’s wrong with you Caroline?
I literaly went crazy. No need to pretend that this wasn’t the case and that I had the situation in my hands, because I really didn’t. This terrible decision turned me hysterical. I started to imagine a hundred situations in my brain, with what I pretended was him but was actual an ideal version of a lover that never existed. I also spent two hundred quids on underwears (don’t judge me), and while realising that I was completely losing control, called a friend for a bit of reassurance. Then, I headed for what I fancied calling a date (but wasn’t, really), somehow hoping that he would regret dumping me three years beforehand, by recognizing how such a sweet babe I am. Yeah I know right.. Ridiculous.
So we met. It was nice, really, but nothing more. Just.. Nice. By walking next to him and talking about our respective lives for hours, it just appeared even more clearly how so different we were from each other. I also understood that no matter how nice he could be, he would never be the person meant to be with me again, because we could simply just not bring to each other what we needed. He was and will still be a really important person in my life, but not that special one whom I will recall the sweet memories of loving days in repeat mode with anymore.
Understanding that felt pleasingly right, as it meant that I wouldn’t have to feel guilty or ashamed from being with him again, nor to explain awkwardly to my beloved ones that I successfully managed to get back with him. But it also felt terribly sad, while I became conscious that during all those years of mourn, his existence was for me synonym of love. He was the only person which made me experience it, and therefore the one which I would refer to in that matter. For an extraordinary long time, I identified him as being love in itself, when he was only the form it took for me at a particular moment of my life – no need to specify that this moment was now far past. This realization was remarkably bittersweet, as it meant giving up on the convinction that there was someone right for me somewhere in this world. Now don’t get me wrong: even though giving up on him means that I have no proof or certitude that this love exist anymore, only hope that it does, I don’t think that I’m doomed to celibacy for the rest of my life – far away from that, I think that this new understanding might help me to go ahead and start forgetting the poor boy in order to, why not, begin something new and exciting with someone else (thanks god!).
To be continued.. Much love ♡