Pondering Posts

I wrote this post over a week ago and then saved it in my drafts folder. Mostly because it was probably my eighth or ninth "I am so unhappy" post and I didn't want those who knew me to think I was on the verge of slitting my wrists, or slicing my ear off, or sticking my head in the oven. Also, it makes me look like the girl who can't get over things. It's a pride thing, I know.

But a week later, the post remains emotionally true. So here it is.

What No One Tells You

What no one tells you about a broken heart, is how much it hurts. I guess the level of hurt varies from person to person and situation to situation. But what no one ever warned me about was how much is actually, physically hurts.

It hurts every day. Still. The heaviness of the chest, the gigantic knot in my throat. Sometimes, my heart pounds with such ferocity that I can hear it. That's right, I can hear it, sitting at my desk, doing the deep breathing that my Very Expensive Therapist has advised me to do that is supposed to release the tears. I'm up in the air about all this crying. It's supposed to make me feel better, but more often than not, I feel just about the same.

I suppose "better" is a relative term these days. Being able to get out of bed is "better." I am also able to put on my game face a little more often. I can smile and I can laugh. I feel fraudulent doing it, knowing that inside I am in incredible pain. Should I be putting on such a game face? Or is this just practical? Is it professional to wear your heart on your sleeve? Who really wants Mopey McGee around the workplace anyway?

Truth is, I'm tired of this broken heart that will not mend. I'm tired of crying every day, grieving, taking space, while the world moves on without me. The World appears not to have missed me. The World whirls and twirls, gaining and losing while I remain stubbornly frozen. The World has not felt my loss.

Sometimes I think, what exactly am I grieving again? I don't even know anymore. No one died. No one lost a child, or a spouse, or had a horrible illness. There are millions in this universe that have had harder, more painful lives than me. Nothing really awful happened.

Except the breaking of my heart. That's right. That happened. Sometimes it's easy to forget that. It's hard to admit that the breaking of my heart is immensely important. It's hard to admit that no matter how strong I appear to be, I have a large and tender heart that, when broken, takes a long, long time to heal. It's hard to admit that I feel deeply and strongly.

There will never be a time when a broken heart is no big deal to me. There will never be a time I can just pick up and shrug it off, no matter how much steel my spirit has.

I'm just not made that way.