Читать книгу It’s Called a Breakup Because It’s Broken: The Smart Girl’s Breakup Buddy - Greg Behrendt - Страница 19

At some point you realize that you’re not going to die from a broken heart—though you’ll surely contemplate the feasibility of it for a while. Believe me, you’ll get there at your own pace—hopefully, sooner rather than later. For me it took years of on again/off again before I finally was able to really understand that he just wasn’t that into me. It was years of big promises with no follow-through. Lots of pushing me away just to reel me back in the moment before I was out the door. In retrospect, I’m embarrassed by how little effort on his part it took for me to come back or stay. I was so desperate for him to love me, to want me, to fight for me that I was literally grateful for any mere scrap of effort. I’d made so many excuses for his inability to treat me well that even the smallest gesture was amplified in my head. After years of this, I finally got my head out of my ass and realized that aside from feeling insecure and fragile about the state of my relationship all the time, we also wanted entirely different things out of life! (Even the brightest of girls aren’t above pulling the wool over their own eyes in the name of hope.) Having a moment of clarity like that is worth your entire kingdom. The liberation of recognizing that you can stand up for yourself and demand action is incredible. And that’s what I did. I sat him down and told him that he was wasting my time. By not committing to either working on the issues we were having or to NOT working on them, he was keeping me in a kind of relationship purgatory, and I was over it. So I gave him the option—you can choose to work on it or choose to NOT work on it. No hard feelings. I proposed it as a choice because by this point I wasn’t angry, I just wanted to know. I needed an answer so that another few years of my life wouldn’t be wasted with empty promises. He said he couldn’t make a decision right then and asked for some time. I gave him four weeks (which was really quite generous, considering he had already given me the answer—but I was doing the best I could). So four weeks later I asked him again, and he said he still didn’t know. (Clearly, he had put about as much thought into this as every other aspect of our relationship.) Well, that’s an answer, right? Not caring enough to even think about it seems like an answer, doesn’t it? If you wanted to be with me, it would cross your mind to think about it. If you wanted to be with me, you’d do whatever it took to make it work. If you wanted to be with me, you’d know. You’d know. For years I thought “I don’t know” and “I don’t know if I can” were words that meant what they said. But from that moment on I knew…“I don’t know” means NO! “I don’t know” means I’m too cowardly to tell you the truth because I can’t deal with confrontation. “I don’t know” means please do the dirty work for me because I don’t want to hurt your feelings even more than I already have. Sure I was sad. I had married this person. Planned on spending my life with him. That moment sucked all the air out of my lungs and filled my head with white noise. But it was also the moment I knew that it was time to take care of me. We decided to split up, and in retrospect I think he had been hoping this moment would come for a long time. I think he had been trying to get me to break up with him forever by his actions—but my hope had blinded me.

Now, I was incredibly lucky to be able to afford what I did next. I called my best friend in Los Angeles, told her what happened, and booked a ticket on the next flight there. I spent a week away from my life, from him, from the hard stuff. I drank, I smoked, I cried, I watched sad movies, I slept, I flirted with other boys, and I distracted myself. After a week, I returned to reality and the heaviness that was in my heart. When a marriage or any significant relationship collapses, the sadness and grief can be overwhelming. In the midst of all this heartache and pain, you have to comprehend and adjust to the idea that your whole universe has been upended, even when you know it’s the right thing. Going through a breakup is awful. It’s a full-body experience. Every nerve ending feels it constantly, and every second feels like an eternity in your head.

So how’d I get through it? Well, the night he moved out, two of my best friends came over for dinner so that I wouldn’t be alone. I hardly ate, but we downed a bottle of wine. Another friend of mine called to check in, and when I burst into tears she hopped in a cab, came over, and spent the night so the bed wouldn’t be so big and I wouldn’t have to be alone. She made sure I got out of the house and went to work the next day, and she offered to stay with me until I didn’t need her to. I allowed myself to lean on my friends immediately, and they rallied around me. Their strength and love made me strong enough to endure some seriously shitty times.

AWESOME THOUGHT That annoying thing that your ex did will never bother you again.