one year later
I can hold my grief with joy like the tipping scales of justice
[My words are italicized] [Ex-person’s are bold]
“We should try also being friends.”
“You’re really emotionally intelligent thanks for calling me out for being avoidant.”
[three days later]
So what you’re asking is that we go from what we have been doing to…whenever you remember I exist you text me, and we hook up?
…
“Last in, first out.”
I have to say… a whole year later and the last time I felt so stripped of my humanity was by my father who I am no contact with, and the US government. I have been attempting to write this piece for some time now—because I knew this date, this time was quickly approaching. And I wonder, how do you write a piece about being dumped without painting broad brush strokes that color the other person as a villain? How do I say enough about the experience, but not too much?
Maybe I will write all of my thoughts and cut some out. As for the casual cruelty…I cannot atone for things I did not say or do.
🎧 LISTEN WHILE READING: THE SHARPEST TOOL BY SABRINA CARPENTER
A year ago, approximately a few days after Lunar New Year and seeing one of my all time favorites, Mistki, I was dumped? Can you call it dumped if I initially brought up the “what is going on here conversation?” Except the other person was not as forthcoming and prolonged what I can clearly see now as the inevitable? In hindsight, it felt like a decision they made fueled by ego, and control. They needed to the person to end things.
Either way. It was painful. It was the end. And I began a journey of grieving.
Initially, I was grieving what felt like a “waste of my time.” But that feels like such an inhumane way to view relationship with others—relationships that quite often comes to some sort of end. I was grieving feeling slightly blindsided by the whole thing, but I can now say with my whole chest, that would be a lie.
I think I knew the ending before they even did. I don’t know, dissociating during intimacy is a pretty big indicator something is going on—my body knew what was what before my mind. [yeah, I was the one checking out]
And that’s what I can say the last year has been, my mind catching up with the signs and signals my body recognized. It has been an affirmation of making the right decision, of doing the right thing, and painful realization. It boggles the mind how often true acts of self love come along with a heaping dose of grief.
This was my first time in four years of allowing anyone in—allowing anyone to approach me, romantically. I took four years to recover from what they call the canon lesbian relationship. The one that changes your view of the world. For me, I was in so much emotional duress from this “canon" relationship,” it triggered a chronic illness [you can laugh because truly wtf].
This time of grief was compounded with what would inevitably be years of isolation during lockdown, the PTSD I developed from endless helicopters flying above my apartment, and my immediate vicinity being tear gassed during the height of [what should have been] our racial reckoning…it took that much time to lift the veil on my perpetual grief shroud.
When I met this last person, I didn’t know what I wanted, but I knew I wanted to try. I wanted to put myself out there, and I wanted to be brave. I knew, and frankly my therapist knew, that some of my biggest and most important healing was going to have to happen in relationship with other people. Would I be secure in my boundaries? Could I effectively and compassionately communicate? Could I resist the urge to abandon myself in favor of being “wanted” and “desired” by another person?
You cannot learn these things alone, I am so sorry to those that don’t want to hear that, but it’s impossible. So, I put myself out there to make the impossible, possible. And that’s what I did.
Formally impossible things, now made possible:
Communicating my needs
Making it clear I hate when people are nonchalant about their feelings toward me/ in relationship with me. I am too neurodivergent to read inbetween the lines or infer meaning. I am upfront please show me the same kindness
Recognizing when someone is withholding (time, attention, affection) and seeing that as a them thing; and seeing it for what it is (unkind; sometimes abusive)
Communicating my expectations; communicating that people in relationship of any kind should have expectations of each other!
Communicating when I am upset without assuming the other person would know
Striking a balance between requiring reassurance and knowing when my anxiety is seeking it out (talking to friends about it in the moment, huge help)
Recognizing when my anxiety was about being in relationship vs that specific person
In the end knowing it was in fact that specific person
Not asking why not me
Not asking what is wrong/so unlovable about me
Not asking them to stay
Not allowing anyway for them to circle back [I know I am magnetic but please do not circle the block with me I will make it very very weird for all involved]
Not internalizing the very unkind things they said at the end
Not trying to figure out why they felt casual cruelty was the way out and instead taking it at face value; this person may in fact be very unkind and that no longer has anything to do with me
Grieving. For months. For days. For hours at a time, and keeping an open heart, leaning deeper into love of self and love of others. Still believing in partnership. Beginning the journey to identify what I really like in partnership and what I don’t. Still loving. Still and still and still…
In therapy, I have been practicing truly viewing less and less of the world so black and white, mostly because that perspective was taught to me vs being my personal core practice. And would you believe it—the me who was so heartbroken and wounded at one point in my life and had given up all hope—could look at an experience like this and say, “that was painful, I’d like to never do it again, and I learned so much about myself.”
There was some good. I’d never been in a relationship with someone who took into so much consideration my likes and interests so far as to read one of my favorite books, and curate a really sweet date that included theater and cocktails. I felt safe to be selfish in ways that we both enjoyed. I gave and received gifts, as the usual giver, to receive was new and sweet.
And in the end I saw that continuing to engage with this person would require me to abandon myself. Even after the tough, scary conversation I prompted, after a week of crying with anxiety because “I was going to talk about it.” I had given this person months of building—we were both worthy of conversation—of effort. I mentioned them withdrawing, of being hard to see or be around, of how I didn’t want to only be texting to be with them.
In the end, I was only valued for what they could take. To desire someone only sexually without their consent, is to strip them of their personhood. I won’t harp on the mean things said, or the blubbering mess I became sitting on my own couch in my own home being dumped by a coward.
I will, however, zero in on my capacity to feel. To feel it all. To show up. To be forthcoming. That I hope the bravery in this moment can show it’s face when I hopefully start approaching people, and being more forthcoming in my hope and desire to romantically connect. That I can hold my grief with joy like the tipping scales of justice, and one doesn’t have to overpower the other.
I stand proud that I can look back one year later and take things for what they were—a moment of passion, a moment of sweetness, a moment of confusion, a moment of conflict, a necessary end.
To answer what I feel like might become a question for some folks. Yes, I am very much over this person. They crossed my mind writing this and I felt no emotion. I saw them recently on a platform and just kind of chuckled to myself.
I will also be honest in saying I will likely never let go of the things done and said to me, because unkindness and cruelty will always be unsettling.
But I have metabolized that person. It has run its course through every question, moment of rumination, anger and bargaining. All stages of grief were experienced and processed. I can also sleep knowing I was brave and never chose cruelty. Not once.
…
And I will never allow someone to say some fucked up shit like “last in, first out,” to my face again and think they’ll get away with it. Loser.
I love this. Your candor and sincerity is a breath of fresh air!
love that you shared this. i'm grieving some heartbreaks rn that I haven't talked about to many people because I feel embarrassed about how much emotion I showed. but you're right that there's nothing wrong with feeling <3