Yesterday afternoon I was scrolling through Facebook, like one does when they are bored, and came across one of my Facebook selected “memories” from 3 years ago. Normally, when a memory like this one pops up, I scroll by it, and completely ignore it. To be honest, memories like this one are far and few between, because apparently Facebook has caught on to the fact that we are no longer an item. No longer a team of two. No longer a loving couple, and no longer friends on any level, but just like anything in this digital world; nothing is perfect and sometimes memories still slip through.
This memory, just like all the others, is bittersweet for me because it is a reminder of what I once had. It is a reminder of the near perfect relationship that I shared with another person who made me feel special. Another person who made me feel like I was their sun, moon, and stars. Only to find out several months later that I was not their anything except disposable and replaceable.
It sucks on a so many other levels when you hand your heart over to another person, and they drop it. Just like a child drops a ball, except my heart didn’t bounce and there were no giggles afterwards.
I suppose I decided to share this particular memory because it seemed relevant. And I didn’t have to go digging through the dusty recesses of my mind for it. Instead, Facebook put it front and center for me to do with as I see fit. Almost like they were daring me to open up that wound all over again, and share it with the world. That is what bloggers do after all, share their stories with the world. It also happened to pop-up at the same time my Match.com subscription ended, and exactly 1 week to the day that I will be at the New England Authors Expo displaying my book: “Letters to my Ex: with all my love ~ a.” Maybe Mark Zuckerberg and all of his Facebook people are psychic. Or maybe my smart phone is just way to smart. Let me stop there before I delve way to deep into online conspiracy theories or end up making a run for it; to live the rest of forever off the grid. Ok, for anyone who knows me personally, that would never happen unless we were to experience a true apocalypse.
But I digress, as I sit here, still single because Match.com couldn’t get the algorithm right this time, and think about the future of my love life, I’m trying to remain optimistic about the prospect of NOT spending the rest of forever alone. I can’t be the crazy cat lady in the house on the corner because I don’t like cats. Maybe I’ll just be the crazy lady in the house on the corner who could never seem to get it just right enough to find her happily ever after. BOOOOO….. that’s a crappy story line. I refuse to believe that I am destined to spend forever alone, and I will never buy a house on a corner lot.
This is the one thing I never actually prepared for when I wrote “Letters to my Ex”, the constant thought stream around my failed relationship with the man I thought I would one day marry. Always having to talk about it when people want to know the details of the book. Always having him on my mind. When I finished the book, it was a relief to be
over it. Over the relationship, over the heartbreak, and over him. It was a cathartic release that helped me heal in ways I never thought possible. It was a silent expression of every thought and idea I had, but may not have said out-loud. It was also everything I never got to say after he let me walk out of his life. While I am completely over it all, including him, memories like this one still suck, but on the bright side, I am reminded that it wasn’t all bad. I am reminded that I am capable of loving someone to the point of no return, and that I am without a doubt, lovable.
Embrace the suck. It’s not all bad all the time. Get past the initial heartache, and see the memory for what it really is; a sweet (minus the bitter) reminder.
Until next time…