Two months later and progress has been painfully slow.

The thoughts of her are daily and frequent; tearful. What sucks is that I have made it a habit previously to always text her in the mornings, to communicate, to encourage. Things I found on Instagram or Facebook I would screenshot because I knew she’d enjoy it. And the truth is that hasn’t changed — I haven’t run out of ideas for encouragement to say to her, and more material keeps popping up that would be perfect to send her… it’s just that it’s no longer an option. And as more time passes, I have more and more that I want to share that no longer have an outlet. I have deleted many unsent text messages that I have wanted to send, with each backspace keystroke becoming the words of prayer I say to God to tell these words to her for me instead.

It’s odd – while I was by no means perfect, as attentive, or as caring as I could have been, I have never been more proud of myself for the way the relationship was lived. I loved that I treasured her, honored her, respected her. And I have felt hurt before – I endured the hurt caused by my ex-girlfriend when she decided to leave me for the guy who lived across the hall, and she moved in with him. I remember hearing them have sex and hearing it ring in my studio apartment. I remember wearing headphones everyday for months as a result.

Healing from that was a tremendous triumph… but this heartbreak seems like it hurts more than that one.

I never thought I would have had to get over her. I do not yet believe that my best days are ahead, and are going to be had without her. I can not stop worrying, thinking, or loving her. I know I will have to, one day, but 61 days in I find myself refusing the desire to give up. I am the one not giving closure to what was such a clear end to the relationship. And I don’t know what I’m hoping for — the evidence is clear that we are done. And I hate that the breakup was so beautiful and respectful. And I will never forget the feeling of that frigid air.

Easter is coming up. A year ago we celebrated our love with tons of pictures that Facebook is cruelly reminding me about. Four years ago I stumbled to a church and fell in love with Jesus all over again, who catalyzed my healing from that relationship I mentioned above. There are going to be broken people, and I, broken as ever, can authentically represent and be with them. I know my pain isn’t foreign to people, even those close to me. I hope there is redemption in this brokenness by being someone who can encourage others even through my own pain. I think that’s what validates our suffering… if I have to be broken to be used, then so be it. I’ve healed before, and I know one day I will heal again.


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