New Title: things my therapist said..

My therapist said, our relationships go to the core of our trauma, because we seek in our partners what we need and what we are searching for within ourselves. That blew my mind.

I then told her I wanted to be angry at my ex so that I could get to the next step faster, but for some reason I couldn’t be angry at him. She said: because you love him. Again, mind blown.

I wanted to message you, though I didn’t know what to say, where to start. The easiest thing, the only thing I had to tell you was, how difficult last week was. I cried three nights in a row because of how much I felt I needed you, fists clenched wished we were still together, in a well of sadness drowning with the thought of losing the love of my life.

I know when we broke up it was for the best. I know that we were no longer helping each other grow. I know. I don’t believe it though. I still hope you will realise how strong your feelings are for me and come back to me. But I’m working on this part. I’m reading about my attachment style and your attachment style. I’m reading about the steps to go through after a breakup. I’m taking notes and thinking about it all. I’m letting myself feel sad, I’m letting myself stare at your icon for a minute a day and wonder if you were staring at my icon in that exact minute too.

I try to remember the things I had written down, I was sad when we were together. Not because of you, though it felt like it, it was because of me. It wasn’t all butterflies and soulmate and sleep and touch and serenity. I wasn’t able to communicate my needs and I never asked or understood yours.

We had a connection, and I guess we couldn’t have planned that, but it wasn’t enough. Eventually no longer for us. We both needed so much more we couldn’t give each other.

Miss Mess


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Is it because I don’t have my own baby, I’m jealous of everyone else’s?

This one was hard to admit…

I had a thought that made it clear to me that we shouldn’t be together. Like loving him too much hurt, not just me, but everything.

Turns out when he sent me a picture of his newborn nephew, my heart cracked. I felt the love he felt for him, in my bones, and under my skin, and running through his veins. Two seconds later, I felt he lacked that love for me. My place vanished beneath his chest. I was bothered by a newborn baby.

This rattled my core beliefs.

I loved babies, newborns, their soft smell, and unending surrender; I had a pulsating love that radiated for them through my eyes and my soul; but here I was feeling jealous of this little adorable thing. Shameful, real, jealousy. This round little Indian Spanish baby.

That was definitely not healthy.

As it turns out, I’ve been struggling with this year on year. I try to work on me these days.

We become jealous because we feel threatened. We do not want anyone to take our partner’s affections from us. We do not want to lose any love or admiration, nor do we want to share. Truth is, everyone has to share.

Romantic love isn’t the only love that exists. Inevitably, your partner will care deeply for other people. Your partner will always love other people; he or she will always want to express admiration, give affection, and offer support to them. This has absolutely nothing to do with you.

Love yourself. Improve parts of yourself you are not happy with. Share. Practice being the person you want to be around. Practice acceptance and love. Be generous with your attention and affection. Be spontaneous with acts of kindness and tokens of appreciation. Respect boundaries and be understanding, with yourself and with others. Practice honesty and respect and patience.

Miss Mess


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Break ups in cars with questions

This week has been difficult. And I know you would love to hear me tell you that. That I miss you. That I’ve needed to message you. That this shit is hard without you.

Why do we need a reminder that someone truly loved us, when we know they did, we felt they did, and being away from that is simply going to be difficult, tough, and full of moments we just don’t want to sit through.

And now that we are no longer speaking, it seems like all the answers were in the car that day. And frustratingly I didn’t ask any of the questions.

I was set on a path, unable to think beyond the thought I had had and was ready for. Unable to think beyond breaking up, now, in the car, get this done. Everything you said, although I remember nodding like it made sense, I can’t remember any of it for the life of me.

And I could have asked you everything and anything. And you would have answered. Like how long do you think we should stop speaking for. What will you think if I hang out with your friends. Really what is it that frightens you. Who is it you are trying to please. Why didn’t we make this work.

Miss Mess


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Going through and through and through our reckoning

I started to imagine we would have the most incredible, last night together. You moving out next Wednesday and our future over since last Thursday. In our fickle, forever relationship, I pictured one, last fun, full of conversation night. I clung to, even the thought of, one last night tripping with you. 

Oh, but you tore me apart. Punched me in my stomach a few times these past two weekends. I don’t know if I can ever forget what you did.

I’m well aware, I’m the one who broke up with you, via text, lest I forget. I’m the one who told you verbatim: I can’t speak to you; can’t be with you; can’t see you.

Those words were cumulations of so much pain, so much pain that I couldn’t handle alone anymore. I was/am in such a dark place that I needed the distance, to take care of myself and to not take you there too.

And you never, not even once asked that we stay together. Instead whenever I feebly attempted to talk about it, you always said: whatever you want.

Whatever I want, means you made a choice. A choice to let me choose.

I love you beyond words, any words that I could perfectly piece together and write to you. But neither you, or I, should be going through this misery.

Miss Mess


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It felt mean, because I thought it was mean

Tonight was the worst.

I felt like he punched me straight in my stomach.

I had no idea who the girl was who answered his phone.

It was unintentional. Poorly planned. Hours of partying, bathroom powder breaks. Unwinding of a tough work week.

Whatever it fucking was, it was mean.

Miss Mess


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This one is for you P

I’m having those thoughts again. Sad, lonely, empty heart, thoughts.

Sad that he wasn’t the person for me. What I needed was consistency and daily connection. It was simple, I needed daily connection. When I finally understood he couldn’t give me that, I didn’t suddenly feel a sense of clarity, instead it pained me. It really hurt.

Lonely that the person I loved so deeply didn’t give me the things I needed. I stayed available but unfulfilled. It frightened me that I couldn’t open myself up to someone else, because of the place I kept hidden from others, but ready, for him.

My heart felt empty. I saw how I could lose someone who was giving me what I needed, who was available, attentive, complimentary, creative, and I couldn’t let him in fully. I couldn’t fill him into that space within me. That felt sad, lonely, empty heart.

Miss Mess


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Lesson #4257: ask for what you want

How can you improve me? What can you teach me about life? Do you want to take this journey with me? What can you give me? What can you do for me?

I want you to make me feel confident, beautiful; make me feel like I am your priority. Make me smile. I want you to support me through my job troubles, family troubles, anxious troubles. Protect me. Be with me. I want you to be consistent and consistently available.

My belief was that feeling the love he had for me was enough. His love for me was all I should want. All I could expect. All I deserved.

I would be too demanding, too much of a gold digger, too arrogant, if I expected or asked for more, for anything. So instead of asking for a big house with a pool and friends in Connecticut, I said, that’s nice he knows people there. Instead of asking for good morning messages, I sent them to him. Instead of getting his support and kindness for what I was going through with my job, I helped him pack up his house and told him I understood how his move after living here for 6 years would feel confusing.

Miss Mess


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