Losing You Didn’t Kill Me


I was dumped via a text message, right after my girlfriend had spent two days in my home where she slept in my arms. Apparently we’re too different – the same reason she told me she liked me in the first place. It was such a humiliating experience. But I have already forgiven her for that.

I agreed to the breakup immediately. I was in shock; I wasn’t thinking straight.

What followed was hell. I cried. And cried some more. I couldn’t get her off my mind. I kept thinking back to our time together. What could I have done better? Was my love not enough? Did I love her enough? What did I do wrong? Is she serious about this breakup?

Two days later I wrote down all I needed to ask her, and all I needed her to know about me. The things I thought were the reasons behind the “we’re too different” line. I felt better after I sent it. The clutter in my mind was cleared, and that allowed me to finish off an overdue report for work. I felt great. I told myself that whatever her response was, I would be okay to accept it.

I prepared myself for her response. I read articles online about people’s breakup experiences. I listened to Etana’s “I rise”, such an empowering song. I prayed. I said “God, whatever her response is, please help me to accept it”.

She replied about 12 hours later. The tone of her message was full of hate, anger, contempt. In her mind the relationship had finished. Apparently for her, the relationship finished a very long time ago.

I was angry, I was hurt. Was it all a lie? Was I imagining her role in the relationship the past three months? All those “I love you’s”, all those kisses… Why? How do you look a person in the face and tell them you love them knowing deep down you don’t? How do you return someone’s kiss with such passion, knowing very well it meant nothing to you? How do you let someone hold you so close, knowing very well you will leave them for good the next day?

I don’t get it. All I know is, it’s painful. It hurts so so much. Why? How could you? Am I such a terrible person? Did I deserve this?

I re-read her message one more time. Yep, it really is over. She wanted nothing to do with me. I sent her an acknowledgement reply. I told her I appreciated her response, and I will now leave her life. I purposefully didn’t tell her I was letting her go. No. My mind was, but my heart wasn’t ready.

I could’ve begged her to reconsider. I could’ve sent her angry messages. I could’ve told her mean things to hurt her. But I didn’t. I just sat there and stared into space.

I took one last look at her Facebook profile. I went through our pictures. I went through her posts about me. I looked at her face. Her beautiful face. I wanted to feel it one last time, the softness of her skin. I wanted to hug her, kiss her, hold her and never let go. But I couldn’t. It’s over. “She doesn’t want you back”, I reminded myself, “she’s made her decision, respect it”.

With tears streaming down my face, I clicked the ‘Blocked’ button. It’s over. There’s no hope. I accepted it. And then I cried. I kept crying. I didn’t know what to do. I just sat there and cried. Then I remembered God: “Lord, please help get through this. I can’t do this without you”.

Suddenly, in the midst of all those tears and the pain – I found respite. I was hurt, but it felt beautiful. I felt proud of myself for crying, for sitting there and allowing the emotion to take over me. I didn’t want a quick fix, I didn’t want an escape. I just wanted to sit there and feel the hurt. I didn’t want to rush it. I just wanted it to take it’s course.

You see, I’ve been here twice before. The first time I literally felt an emptiness in my stomach. I remembered how much I wanted to scream, but couldn’t. I wanted air; I was suffocating. My whole world was dark. I hated it. I wanted it to end. I wanted a quick fix. Eventually I gave up and moved countries.

The second time I was here, I felt the same dark cloud surrounding me and the pain in my chest. I cried a lot, most probably after every 5 minutes. I looked for him in all the people around me. I missed him terribly. I missed his love, his affection. I missed the way he looked at me, the way he held me, the way he kissed me, the way he made love to me. I missed his skin next to mine, his breath, his taste. I missed his text messages. I missed how he would have a smiley face for each emotion he wrote. I missed how he would double text me if I didn’t reply.

But I missed our conversations the most. We talked about our dreams, the things we would do, the places we would visit, and our beautiful kids that would have ‘my smile’ and ‘his beautiful eyes’. The eyes I loved the first time I looked into them. The eyes that drew me in and showed me a glimpse of his soul, that I eventually loved. I miss him, even til this day I still think about him. But we can’t be together, it wasn’t right. They were right, sometimes two people can be so right for each other but time won’t allow them to be together.

I left him and moved countries. I couldn’t bear the thought of living in the same country as him and not being able to have him. I still remember the day we said goodbye. We cried, we kissed, we hugged, we let go.

He will always be in my heart, and I’ll always be in his. We will look for each other in the next life, and we will fall in love again, only this time – we won’t have to let go.

My current breakup… tears, lot’s of tears. Some dark moments, but they faded away quickly. There was no physical pain. There was no emptiness, no suffocation. Just beautiful tears and a sense of relief. It hurt, but it was a beautiful kind of hurt.

I was proud of myself. I was proud of the way I loved her when we were together. I was proud of the way I supported her when she needed it the most. I was proud of the way I opened myself up to her, despite knowing she may not feel the same way in return. Now I know she didn’t, but that’s okay. I was proud of the way I handled our conflicts, I never once put her down with hurtful words. I was proud of the many times I fought for our relationship, trying to make it work. She was worth it. I am proud of myself for the way I handled our breakup. I was angry, I was hurt, but again, I never put her down. As soon as she said it was final, there is no future, I told her I will let her leave. I am proud of myself for all of these things because it shows character, respect, and dignity. I did the best I could, but sometimes it just isn’t enough.

I dried up my tears, smiled at myself, and welcomed the rest of the day and all the days ahead. I changed the sheets and the pillow cases that had her smell from the previous 5 days when she slept in my arms. I opened all the windows to let her smell out. I cleaned the house to remove any remaining traces of her.

Afterwards I walked out of the house and into the bright sunny November afternoon. I welcomed the new air. I welcomed the beginning of a new chapter in my life. I was ready to channel all this pain into my work.

My dearest third love, thank you for allowing me to love again. Thank you for the heartbreak. Thank you for giving me the inspiration to do my work to the best of my abilities. My heart is now ready to let you go. I want to free up the space for someone deserving of it. I wish you well, my love.

Love has no guarantees. Adele was right, ‘sometimes it lasts in love, and sometimes it don’t’. I will always be proud of myself for being vulnerable. To quote Brenee Brown:

“Vulnerability is the birthplace of love, belonging, joy, courage, empathy, and creativity. It is the source of hope, empathy, accountability, and authenticity. If we want greater clarity in our purpose or deeper and more meaningful spiritual lives, vulnerability is the path.”

To feel is to be human. I want to feel love again. I am ready.