What Did I Do But Love You Too Much?

When you’re the one who cares the most, loves the hardest, and misses too much, you give all of yourself to those who matter. Everything you have is put into others because you truly believe in the magic of relationships. You walk around with so much to give, and sometimes, that is too heavy a burden to bear. Sometimes, people don’t need your love. Sometimes they just don’t want your love. Sometimes, they simply take advantage of your love. If you care too much, you’ll know the feeling.

One would think with all this love to give, someone would embrace you with open arms and refuse to let go. One would think this person wouldn’t want to see you break. One would think…

I found someone who captured my entire being—heart, mind, and soul—and I fell hard. I gave all of myself to this person because I genuinely wanted to. I sincerely cared for this wonderful, beautiful, amazing, human who decided they too wanted me in their life. At first, when they didn’t reciprocate my care or love to the extent that I showed mine, it was okay. I understand that I’m a special kind of person and not everyone feels the way I do; not everyone loves the way I do. But when you continue to give all of yourself and feel that they continue to give little in return, you start breaking from the inside. So with every tear this person unknowingly led me to shed, I kept cracking.

Am I not good enough for you?
Do I need to express myself more?
Do I need to express myself less?
Do you appreciate me?
Do you know how much I love you?
Do I even make you happy?
Do you miss me?
Why won’t you tell me you miss me?
Do you think about me when I’m not around?
Do you dream of our future together?
Would you pick me over her?
…what about her?
Why do I love you more?
Do I need to change?
Am I beautiful enough?
…thin enough?
…smart enough?
What is wrong with me?
Am I not good enough for you?

These cracks were so tiny that I didn’t feel it right away. I continued to love with all of my heart and to care with everything I had. But one day, the person I was so sure would never break me, made all the cracks meet in the middle and I completely shattered. It happened unexpectedly. One day I’m smiling and laughing and loving. The next day, I’m sitting on the floor trying my hardest to catch my breath, and my heart hurts; I literally feel heartbroken.

With help from family and friends, I picked myself up from that floor and experienced, deeply, the entirety of each stage of grief—the worst depression. It took months for me to seal up all of those cracks and realize that I could keep loving. I can’t stop from loving. I can’t stop from caring. It isn’t logical but I can’t turn these feelings off, or dim them down. If I try, my heart will still break, just differently. And with this in mind, months later, I face the same person who shattered me, hoping that the end result will be different. I was truly too much for you—I cared too much, loved too much, and believed in us too much. I pray that this time, I will be just enough. Finally…

“I still love you”
“Being with you feels right”
“I miss you”

You say these words to me and I believe you. My heart swells with your love, but again, I become too much. Again, I ask for more than you are willing to give. And now, you look me in the eye and yell deep into my soul that all of the pain I feel is my fault, that I deserve to feel this utterly hopeless, unwanted, and insignificant. “You have no idea how much I loved you. I wanted to marry you” followed by “fuck you, you fucking bitch. You deserve to cry, fuck you”. And there is more, so much more that is yelled. My body shudders and crumbles on your bedroom floor, and tears pour out in deafening sobs as you tell me to get the fuck out with such immense hatred in your eyes. When and how did I become the enemy?

Denial. Next was denial. Call me crazy, call me helpless, call me whatever you like. But denial is strong. I am not the enemy. I chose to not believe that the man, who just weeks before said he still loved me, could diminish my existence in order to be with someone else (in the next room), and then take me aside to tear me down to the core. So days later, with an enraged “fuck you, you fucking bitch” echoing in my head, I brush it off and try again. But I am officially the enemy and this is officially the end. How low do I need to go before I remember to love myself just as hard as I love you?

“Fuck you, you fucking bitch”
“Fuck you, you fucking bitch”
“Fuck you, you fucking bitch”

That night still haunts me. With every memory, my stomach churns with the thought of you and her, then you and me. And any last evidence of love in your eyes turned to hate and disgust. What did I do but love you too much?

Finally acceptance. I accept the end of the relationship, the end of “us” and “we”. I accept that there are things we think about the other that are untrue. I accept that you will always have a special place in my heart. I accept that you are not the person I thought you were. I accept that we were not meant to be.

Two things I do not accept: the blame and the disrespect.
I refuse to let you convince me that your decision to break my heart and shatter the future I envisioned for us was my fault. You did not allow me be a participant in your decision to end this beautiful love story. I refuse to let you take the blame off of your shoulders and put even more burden on mine. These cracks were fixable, but you did not have the will or the heart to fix them. I refuse to accept being disrespected by you and disrespecting myself by not walking away. “Fuck you, you fucking bitch.” So while I cannot accept, I work to forgive. First, I must forgive myself and know that one day, for someone wonderful, my love will not be too much. Only once I forgive myself, can I forgive you.

Although I’m the one who suffers, I will not apologize for bearing my heart on my shoulder and believing in the beauty that comes with being vulnerable and loving with everything I have. Because of this, I experience everything much more deeply, including heartbreak and guilt. But also love, and joy, and pure happiness. I’d rather care too much than just enough. 

We each experienced the relationship, the heartbreak, and the aftermath differently. I believed in us more than you ever knew and maybe you believed in us more that I ever knew. And although there are so many more memories, so much untold pain, so much love we used to have for one another, and so much hope for our future together, we misunderstood each other’s love to the extent that there was no going back.

So now and forever, what I hear ringing in my ear isn’t you saying “I love you lots, lots”, or a happy reminder of “I can’t wait to see you in 10 days”, or your voice as you sing to the radio in your car. From the man I loved too much, I hear: “Fuck you, you fucking bitch”.