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Gee, only two years?

December 24, 2008

I’d been carrying a secret around with me. I wasn’t over it.

Two years ago, I had a brief relationship with someone. It ended badly, and I carried the hurt around for TWO YEARS. About 8x the length of the actual relationship. I’m not sure why I held onto it for so long, but I do know that now it’s gone.

I had been loath to tell anyone about it, since the feelings were recurring much longer than I thought was necessary. Besides, I get easily annoyed by women who go on  and on about breakups that happened in the past, and I certainly didn’t want to be one of those women. I didn’t think about it all the time, but once in a while something would remind me, and there’d be this flash of anger and a tightening in my chest, and I’d think about it nonstop for a day or two. Then it would go back into its dormancy.

I’d also kept this to myself because plenty of my friends are still on good terms with him. I’m not a fan of talking crap about someone in front of their friends, it’s awkward all around. So it wasn’t a total shock when he popped up in the chat for BeTheMarriage*. There was no drama, but the next day, there was the anger again.

And I did something I hadn’t done in a long time. I wrote a VERY long email to a friend of mine (who wasn’t familiar with the story), about why I was angry, and why I felt I had been wronged, and just blathered on until I ran out of steam.  A few days later, I tried to tap into that anger again, and found it gone.

I can look at the past so much more reasonably now. Sure, I was hurt, but he wasn’t evil, or even mean. He made some decisions at inopportune moments and hurt me. But all in all, he was a nice guy who was going through some stuff, and I was going through a LOT of stuff, and couldn’t have been a total pleasure to be around. So yeah. The past is the past, and it’s all about the future now, baby.

* Funny story there: I had been throwing up for the last eight hours and was finally starting to feel kind of human again, though still very out of it. Out of it enough that I would stare at the keyboard while I typed, because I didn’t trust my fingers to do a good job on their own. So I completely missed that a private message had popped up while I was typing, and it defaulted to that screen. There was a very polite message just letting me know that he was also here, and hoped it wasn’t awkward, and that I was doing well. My response? “The giblets.”

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One comment

  1. Love you.



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