All Too Well , … Part 2

Thoughts on Break-Ups With Taylor Swift … and George Michael

Everything Has Changed

She once asked me whether I thought my best days were ahead of me or behind me.. I hesitated because I hadn’t thought my best were ahead of me, I was aging too quickly. I reflected on my past life with love and regret. I now know my best days are in the future because I understand myself better. I will love better. She told me I don’t see my mistakes, she said I blamed her. Truth is I only see my mistakes. I wanted to be perfect for her or understand why I wasn’t.

’Cause there we are again in the middle of the night… We’re dancin’ ‘round the kitchen in the refrigerator light

There may be those in our sphere we love but cannot figure out how to build a life with. I loved everything about my time with her until there was no more time with her. We laughed, we danced, we cried, we traveled — great adventurers , taking new paths together , exploring new roads, you said no one ever took you on adventures — we made love. Every argument was an ending. These are stories we tell ourselves. We eventually listen.

Forever Winter

We’ve spent thousands on relationship therapy and coaching telling us how to find love. Relationship coaches tell you there’s nothing wrong with you, the relationship was toxic, find a better match. You found love. Did you embrace it, or did you run? Running from solution to solution. A therapist once told me if you repeat the same mistakes, it’s not the person you love, it’s you. Was the relationship toxic or was it fear? Fear of not being perfect. Fear of being stuck in a relationship with problems. Fear created by childhood trauma. Fixing myself will fix the toxicity. The other person is to be blamed, the story I was told. They were controlling, they were insecure or they were afraid to get hurt. We are the other person.

Come Back… Be Here

“But don’t make me close one more door, I don’t wanna hurt anymore. Stay in my arms if you dare… Or must I imagine you there” -Whitney Houston

Funny, I recently saw a comment on a Facebook post “just because I loved you at one point doesn’t mean I will always love you. I am not Whitney Houston.” “Word” Heard loud and clear. Those you love, hurt you the most.

Somethin’ in me needs this pain…

Stories we tell ourselves. Stories they tell you. Are your eyes and ears wide open? Come meet me, no one has to know. Explosive. They could be telling you they’re leaving you tomorrow and you’re not listening. I have learned, if someone tells you they love you, it’s a feeling in the moment — it doesn’t mean they will love you forever.

The one story you couldn’t tell was how you were loved consistently through your anxiety. When the anxiety is yelling loudly nothing else is heard. Pray about it and play your music loud.

Message In A Bottle

In my arms she is fearless… Away from me she loses her balance, is terrified of the void. A void needing to be filled .. putting anything or anyone inside you. Not wanting to feel the hurt. Not wanting to feel my love.

Are the stories we tell ourselves true?

Nothing New

If I could go back in time to hug every ex once again, tell them I loved them in that moment, life could be sweeter. We have regrets. We evolve into our lives; grow — hopefully as better people — into adulthood. Some take the bitter harvest and recuse themselves from living their best life. The injured lick their wounds and pull back. The optimistic move on as if the world has something better. The reality is nothing matters once you see your life at the end. Affairs, flirtations or jealousy, unresolved differences and arguments… none of it matters. Only that you risked it all to love and be loved. I felt it. It was good to be alive in those fleeting moments. These little wonders.

You’ve heard it written before: you don’t take your car or your house with you when you die, you take your memories. Can you hold my hand and walk with me until the end… I will never love her the same, I will never feel her love again but I loved our short life together. I will miss it. This is the story I’m telling myself now.

The Moment I Knew..

You reach out to someone you always said you would never go back to — even if we were over — someone you said always disappeared for weeks — couldn’t communicate — someone who only said they loved you when you moved. I realize perhaps this person is the better match for you. You moved on so quickly, you couldn’t have loved me, and yet, you must be lost without me. I’m lost too.

There are times when I miss you most, like the let down after the holiday, like now, after Thanksgiving … I want to warm up leftovers for you. Cuddle on the couch, watch some silly rom com. I want to cook for you and hear about your day. You will be missed more than you know.

This is the Last Time I’m asking you why…

I opened the package from her, a beautiful box filled with writing materials; pens, stationary, empty journals. I couldn’t believe she sent me this gift. She wants me to tell my story, her story, our story. She was encouraging me to fulfill my life’s ambition. Continue to write for us, she must be saying. I smiled. It made me joyful. I searched for a card and just as I found it, it began to rain, the paper getting wet. The words she had written were disappearing from the soaked note. It was dark, cloudy skies over head. I could feel the wetness on my face, a drip of water tracing my cheek. Then I woke up. It was dark, a beautiful darkness. 2:27am the clock said. A dream. The rain was a tear drop, the box was my pillow. There was nothing from her. No words on paper. I wasn’t even a memory.

Does it make you feel sad that the love you’re looking for, Is the love you had?

Taylor Swift sings about her feelings and her anxiety, I don’t hear her sing about love. Love can be devastating. Was she in love? Did you love me when you chose to try to feel safer without me than with me? You once said when you read my stories, you wanted to be the person I wrote about, hoping you would be the love of my life. How does it feel now?

Yet, I’m afraid you will never show up at my door again.