Saturday, August 25, 2012

Being Brave Enough to Break Your Own Heart

For a month I took a lover. I called him Pierre because I felt like what we were doing was very French. We had a great time, and it did help me feel back in my game. It was a Twinkie break while I worked on a more spiritually nutritious foundation. Contrary to popular belief though, getting under someone else did not help me get over someone else. It did not make my love for my Ex-Sweet Escape fade away, it didn't even move it to a back shelf. I knew Pierre was a substitute for what I wanted. I knew the purpose this man served was not to fix me but to help me explore what role, if any, I want a man to play in my life.

One night Pierre and I did go on a real date. The morning of the date, I sat on Savior Single Mama's porch and literally shook, I teared up as I told her that I was going on a date. Fear rumbled in my stomach and I felt those girls going at it again: Cinderella and Lisabeth Salander. They fight over independence and the dream of true love. I think this time Cinderella took a chunk out of Lisabeth's ear in her savage desire to have us live Happily Ever After, whatever in the hell that means. A few minutes pre-date, I walked in the house and noticed that my sweet little 5 year old beast had decorated the Buddha. She had given him flowers and a party hat and a pair of pink panties.... yeah...really. I laughed and laughed and called my mom, "Should I take the panties off before my date comes?" My mom laughed, "No, sweetie, anyone that dates you needs to see that this is a part of your life." Hahaha she's so right. Party Buddha with pink panties, that is my life. The most important part right now. So I left them.

The craziest thing is that during this time with Pierre my Ex-Sweet Escape and I were going out for dinner, and movies. The Ex knows I've been dating yet, we have texted almost everyday in the past month and I have tortured him with my ripped open heart. I can't seem to be away from him, yet when I am near him I can literally feel my heart ripping in two, and then I drink my second glass and wine and I make him hear about it too. It's really sad and ridiculous.

Two weeks ago I decided I had had enough of myself. I woke up in the early morning hours laying in my Ex-Sweet Escape's bed. Fully clothed (no sex going on there), his arm around my waist. I was so hungover and so fucking sad and I sad to myself, "I am done having a broken heart. I am done doing this to myself." I leaned over and kissed his cheek and said, "I'm leaving." He mumbled in his sleep, "You're fired." I laughed and stood to leave. The day before would have been our 2 year anniversary. I walked out the door and let it slam behind me, and then in it's slamming, the door popped open a few inches and stayed that way. Asshole door.

There is this amazing advice columnist Sugar on The Rumpus and she wrote in one of her columns, "Be brave enough to break your own heart." I have a coffee cup that says it. I'm trying to live it. I'm trying to be brave enough to break my own heart. I let Pierre go because I had gotten what I needed from him and there was no where else to go with such a superficial connection. I have let go of the idea that my Sweet Escape and I will ever be together again, but I have not let go of him. We still text everyday. Today we are going to look at motorcycles and maybe take my beasts to see a movie. His is my friend-ish; deeper and more complicated than a friend.

I'm trying to be brave enough to break my own heart. To let my love of him change into something different, something larger than what it was. I learned the words of what I was doing from Sugar, but I learned the actions from him, my Ex-Sweet Escape. One night we were driving and I said, "How can you stand this? Isn't this painful for you? Isn't this like torture? This hanging out but not being together?" He said, "Yeah, but I just don't wear my heart on my sleeve like you do." Then later he looked at me and said, "Listen, you and I are going to be like those old people who you see walking down the street holding hands. Our love is going to go beyond this. You just have to give it time." Fucking-wise-mother-fucking-biker-mean-ass-tattooed-guru-who-I-cannot-fucking-live- with-or-live-without. I should have spit in his eye.

Earlier we had had a beer at a neighborhood bar. I sat looking into his face and though for me his beauty was almost too painful to bear, I couldn't tear my eyes away. We had gone to see the Batman movie. Sitting side by side we did not touch and I breathed him in, I imagined leaning over and biting a chunk out of his forearm. Eating him up like the wild thing I am. Consuming him once and for all. Getting this shit over with.

But I didn't eat him. I followed his lead of how to do this friend-ish thing. I sat next to him with our love laying naked between us while we shared popcorn with our hands not even brushing once. In being brave enough to break my own heart I am giving up any road map I thought I had of what love and relationships are about. I'm giving up the illusion of control I had over my future. I am doing that faith thing, where I free fall and repeat again and again, "You're safe, girl." I'm being brave enough to step off the beaten path of romantic relationships and forge my own definition of what is right for me. Damn, I feel amazingly strong and afraid at the same time. In my phone his contact name has been changed to Be Brave Enough. 5 or 6 times a day I have a beautiful reminder of my goal.

The sweetest part is that since I decided to be brave, since I decided to just fuck it and go ovaries to wall with breaking my own heart, I have been meditating again. I have been cooking and making my diet more healthy. I have been paying attention to my body working out, doing yoga. Ha, look at that. Isn't it amazing? Taking care of myself has bred taking care of myself. Breaking my heart has made my self-love multiply like rabbits. Who knew taking a sledge hammer to your heart could create something so very, very sweet?

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