Ok, I didn’t just get dumped. We were never really together. And by together, I mean… “exclusive.” I hate that word. It’s almost as grody as moist or panties ((shudder)) …but we had been texting daily and seeing each other at least once – usually twice – a week for nearly two months. I’ll spare the details. But it went something like this:
Him — kinda hints at being serious
Me — kinda looks like deer in headlights
+several weeks of fantastic dates later+
Me — kinda hints at being serious
Him — ((crickets))
And we never speak again.
The woman thing to do? Let’s look at three common reactions:
Option A: WHY DON’T YOU LIKE ME ANYMORE?! WHAT DID I DO?! PLEASE TALK TO ME! ((ugly cries, shovels ice cream in mouth))
(I might have done A)
Option B: Meh. Many fish. Next. ((throws the bird, lights cigarette))
Option C: I’m an artist with an outlet and I’m going to release my pain through my medium! ((sleepless nights, manic episodes, platinum album))
(I’m now doing C)
I’m a writer. A performer. A dreamer. A dancer. A cellist. A thinker. (More about me some other day.)
For years, I’ve had this pressure on my heart to help people. Especially women. Especially women that are constantly shifting themselves to make someone else happy. We are naturally servers — not servANTS — but servers. We love to love on others. We love to make the people we love smile. That’s why we’re moms. We’re good at taking care of everyone else. But sometimes, that comes with a price. We can lose ourselves in shallow, abusive, or controlling relationships and not even notice until our true callings have been all but erased.
My marriage of almost 8 years nearly snuffed my passion (that story is for another day, too), but my inner voice grew stronger and stronger from the moment I moved out. And now, a year later, that voice has a name.
*Cue Road to Relovery Theme Song
So, ex-husband and ex-not-really-boyfriend, thanks for the inspiration.
*Cue Taylor Swift break up face