Picture a window. Picture someone hitting that window. At first, the glass starts to break apart. Small webs of broken glass rippling from the center. Sometimes it takes quite a few hits before the glass finally shatters into shards.
I feel like I’m one punch away from shattering into a million pieces. My first relationship started that broken rippling and I never really gave myself time to repair before finding someone else who was happy to pick up the hammer. Each consecutive shitty relationship added more chips to the pane.
I feel vulnerable and terrified. I crave the feeling of being desired but recoil from it as well. I know what comes from being wanted. There’s always a price. At this point, I feel too fragile to risk another hit.
I haven’t been able to soothe myself as well lately. I’m able to distract myself briefly, but when left alone with my thoughts, I feel too much. It’s overwhelming.
I have dreams about him. The happy memories make the cracked edges in the glass feel so much sharper.
I don’t want to miss him or love him. I don’t want to crave his touch. I don’t want to look at old photos with my daughter and have to tell her “that’s when mommy and daddy got married”. I wish I could erase it all but I can’t.
I know that feeling is part of healing. I just wish healing didn’t hurt so damn much.
I hear others tell me that someday I’ll be happier than I ever was and I’d like to believe them. Some days I do. Some days it’s harder to believe that I’ll ever be okay. It’s hard to believe that I’ll ever be ok on my own. That it’s possible to be happy while single.
But I know I owe it to myself and my kids to try. I need to give myself some time to heal and I need to throw away that damn hammer that I’ve allowed people to break me with.