I went to bed last night knowing I needed to write this post today and woke up dreading the thought of doing it. Rather than sitting down and doing it, I busied myself around the house…cleaning up the leaves in the back…pulling weeds…doing laundry…searching online for what to do with the backyard this year…spending way too much time on Facebook. All of it, a distraction from what I knew I needed to do. So I did what I always do when I’m stuck on something, I went to yoga.
I needed my mat. Something familiar and comforting that would support and nurture me…because internally, I was struggling. Not so much with what I needed to say but more with the worry that once I write it…once it’s out there…if he reads it – that will be that. I’m worried he won’t understand. That he’ll personalize it…reading into it his failings…when that’s not the intent at all. This post is about me…about me letting go. Truly letting go of the possibility and the dream…of The Taste.
The purpose of my vacation was to do a palette cleanse of sorts. An energetic, mental, emotional, and spiritual cleanse. To allow myself a physical break from everyday life…from my obligations and responsibilities. To step back…reflect…and hit reset on my life. Ridding myself on the things that no longer served me. I needed to be objective about who I was, am, and want to be. And that’s not something I felt like I could do at home where it’s so easy to get distracted or to focus on the little things that need to be done…like I’ve been doing all day today.
On the island I was able to step back and objectively witness my relationship with The Taste. For the first time, I was able to see it as if it weren’t happening to me – as if I hadn’t been directly involved. I was able to see what my friends saw, and I didn’t like it. When you’re caught up in the whirlwind of a relationship, it’s not possible to see the bigger picture sometimes….at least it wasn’t for me.
For more years than I want to acknowledge we did this back and forth dance where one person would pursue the other. If we landed on the same page at the same time, it was never for more than a couple of months before one pushed too hard or the other got scared. We ended up “breaking it off” about every quarter. I started to jokingly think it was somehow tied to the moon.
I don’t understand why either of us did what we did. Other than I think we were both terrified of being alone…of being isolated with just our own disappointment for letting so many people down – including each other and ourselves. We had become such good friends that the idea of completely losing the other was too much. So rather than own up to the circumstances…or make the necessary changes…or finally commit to doing something…anything, I clung to the attachment of what I thought was possible. Not probable, but possible. I clung to the times he said we were going to make it. To the times he said he was rounding the corner. To the times he said I was his future. To the times he said he loved me and missed me. I clung to every word because it was something…and something was better than nothing. But really, I didn’t have anything.
About a year ago I started a journal that I’d write letters to him in. Sometimes they were love letters. Other times I wrote to convey my hurt or anger over something that had happened. Mainly, I just wrote about what was happening in my life that I wanted him to know about. In the back of my head, I had this dream that I’d give him the journal someday — when we were finally together — and he’d be able to see…to read…that I thought about him nearly everyday whether we were together or on a break. I had this romantic notion that everything might work out.
What had been every day, became every couple…then maybe every week or so…and finally I’d gone a whole month. I guess the process of untangling myself was well underway. I was working energetically to limit the depth and frequency of the connection. On one level it makes me sad to find myself here. I’ve questioned what I could have done differently so many times. For the first time in my life, I can say that I gave 100%. I was 100% invested in wanting this to work…but deep down I think I knew it never would. There was one thing that he needed to do to show me there was a possibility and he was never able to do it. I think there were times that he truly wanted it to work but fear would eventually pull him back every time.
Last night I wrote the last letter to him in my journal. I needed the act of physically writing that it was time to put it away…to walk away…no different than I needed to write this post. It’s way of freeing myself of the burden…of the hope. That’s energy that I need to put into myself…into people that are available. I’m not mad…not in the slightest. What I learned from The Taste was immeasurable. I honestly believe I wouldn’t be where I am today without him. He taught me so much about love…and about myself. He helped me to realize that the little girl that felt so unworthy of love had become a beautiful woman that was absolutely worthy…and that’s why I’m saying goodbye. I’m worthy of so much more than The Taste is capable of giving me.
If you happen to read this, thank you for guiding me here…and for delivering me home safely. xoxo