Trying to figure out a way to start this post was harder than I originally expected. Quotes of advice from friends, some melodramatic picture of a quote off pinterest, but the thought of any cliche form of move on sounded just as cliche and lame as the next idea that came to mind. Any route that I could think of ended with me deleting everything, starting over, and deleting again. All I could think of was how the hell I’m supposed decipher through the amount of advice I’ve gotten since the break up between me and W.
The majority of the advice, I’ve realized, given after a break up is that you’ll be okay and trying to move on will help. But what if you don’t want to move on? Why are we (women) expected to move on from a break up almost immediately? Country music alone seems to be all about cheating guys, moving on, and pissed off women that are ready to take on the world – not that any of that is bad, country is my go-to when it comes to karaoke and long drives. But why is it that there’s really only songs by men about wanting to get back the relationship, longing for the good days, God Gave Me You (Blake Shelton) or Remind Me (Brad Paisley).
Why is it not okay for us to mourn a relationship, to want those good days back, or to sing the female version of Come Back Song by Darius Rucker? I’d easily say five out of six of my friends immediately told me to move on, that was their advice when I told them the relationship with the guy I want to marry had just ended. Days later, the same advice. When I’d cry to them about how numb or broken I felt, it was always the same. Give it time, you’ll move on.
First thing on everyone’s to-do list: get me out of the house. And by out of the house, they meant drunk in a bar. Which was fun, I’m not sure I’ll ever get tired of getting dolled up and dancing with a beer in my hand. But forcing me to talk to guys literally felt like being back in elementary school and guys had cooties. All I wanted to do was go home and cry under my blankets. I’d given myself two days to cry, Saturday and Sunday. After that, I was expected to move on.
Instead of letting me sit in my own designated pity party, I was being pulled into the same direction I’d previous pulled my own friends after their break ups. Giving them the same advice of, you’ll be fine, it’ll just take some time. I hope to never use that advice again. Although it may be true, there’s no reason to force someone to move on if they aren’t ready to let go of the relationship.
I’m not ready. Admitting that was easy, saying it to my friends was hard. Not listening to my family and friends is the hardest, I can’t image my life without their guidance; but when it comes to love, I can’t. There’s hardly ever something I’ve experience where someone didn’t tell me all about how they’d already gone through it and what I should or shouldn’t do about it. The one thing that’s ever been louder than my family and friends is my gut. What am I supposed to do if my loved ones are telling me to move on but something in my gut is telling me to wait.
While my gut is telling me to wait, everyone around me is telling me not to. While I have no interest of moving on, I’m surrounded by the opposite. Finding a way back to each other would be epic, am I expecting him to come back? I don’t know. Do I want him to? Absolutely. What’s the point of immediately moving on if all I want is for him to call, if all I can do is think about him, reminisce or hate him for the week of absolutely torture I’ve been through.
Why can’t I wallow for a week, eat junk food, and wish for some grand romantic gesture to cure this whole mess? That look in his eyes, the smell of his skin, and the sound of his drunken laugh on my voicemail. I can’t let go of it yet, any of it.
Mourning a relationship is healthy, sitting in his old t-shirt while boxing up his stuff and breaking my lent of giving up junk food because all I want to eat is chocolate and skittles, is healthy – maybe not the chocolate and skittles diet, but grieving is a process. A process that I’m not ready to let go of, so why should I? Besides, finding a love that’s that can’t eat, can’t sleep, reach for the stars, over the fence, world series type of stuff, is hard to find. Why let go of that as if it never happened?