In two months you-know-who and I will have been broken up for a year. I was talking to Brad about it on the phone the other night (I hope he doesn't mind my talking about this), and he said, "Doesn't it seem like the year that you were together was SO much longer than the year that you've been broken up?" And I was all, "Yes!" because I had just been thinkng that earlier.
I guess it can be attributed to a lot of things: this past year has brought a lot of pretty serious life changes, from having surgery to going to school to moving apartments to quitting my job. I think things like that just make time go by faster. But I also realized that my year with He Who Shall Remain Nameless was so fraught with anxiety and tension and second-guessing myself that I didn't even realize (which, I guess I do now, in retrospect) how unhappy that relationship made me in a lot of ways. Don't get me wrong, it was incredible and wonderful and fun and affirming in its own ways; I wouldn't trade that year for anything. And it just felt really, really good to actually be in love again, but overall I think it was probably pretty unhealthy (g'duh!).
Anyway, it's interesting to think back on those times and be able to come to this kind of intellectual discovery about them. It's weird. It doesn't make it hurt any less (and believe me, I'm still hurting), but at least I can be more objective about it now than I used to be able to.
1 comment:
That's funny, I was thinking the same thing yesterday about my year of being single. It seems to have flown by in a matter of weeks. I lost the watch Dan gave me days before we broke up, and was thinking, well, it figures, I can't keep nice things for long. I was thinking, it had only been a few months that I'd had it. It was 15 months! Anyway. Time flies when you're taking care of yourself and not constantly giving your energy away to others. That's my theory.
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