It's amazing to me how much of a beating the heart can take. How much it will claw and grasp and squeeze to stop from falling off the edge and tumbling down to shatter into a million pieces. Only to then start putting itself back together, one piece at a time. Most of them in the right place.
My heart has broken a lot over the past couple of years. Yet somehow, it doesn't harden. After it repairs, it lets someone else back in. It takes a risk and lays it all on the line again, only to be denied, slapped out of my outstretched hand, and tumbles to the floor to shatter again.
Being an empath is incredibly painful. I feel other people's pain, yes, but good god, I feel my own pain like a scalding branding iron on my soul. It leaves a scar to remind me each and every time. I'm only 28. I've lost track of the scars...I don't even know how many there are any more, but they remind me of their existence when I need to be reminded.
So. I am single again. I am so tired of mingling. In pain and heartbreak like this, I always think of the lyric "I'm scared to death that there may not be another one like this." You know why? Because there isn't another one like this. There isn't another person just like that heartbreaker. Each soul is different. There will never be another one like this. That loss deserves ample grief.
Spare me the "he doesn't know what he's missing", "there's plenty of fish...", "he'll regret giving you up", "you're a catch, you'll find someone soon." I don't give a fuck. He DOES know what he's missing. We both know how big the ocean is AND how unique each other is. He probably will have some regret, but that sure as hell doesn't make me feel better. I have my own regrets, too. I'll find someone soon...sure. Sure I will. But I want him.
I have something I need to admit to the world. I MAY or MAY NOT be polyamorous. I don't fucking know. With some people I feel more monogamous than with other people. I'm figuring that out on a case-by-case basis now. This flip-flop was hurtful to someone I love and I need him to know how incredibly sorry I am for causing that pain. Please, please forgive me. I am so sorry.
I've learned a new word: demisexual. I don't really like the word, but I've read some insightful interpretations that resonate with me. I'm not "half" sexual like the word would make you believe. But I am taking this word upon myself to mean this: Initial physical attraction is good, very good, and very helpful. In fact, I need a fairly high amount of initial physical attraction. But. But - I cannot have sexual contact with that person until I get to know their soul and their energy better. It makes me a gatekeeper. Whatever, fine. It also makes me easier to take advantage of than I ever knew before. But now that I am owning this, I won't be so easily taken.
Grief. It doesn't have stages. It doesn't have beginnings. It doesn't have endings. Grief comes in moments of so many different forms: denial, anger, sadness, bargaining, depression, acceptance, unacceptable, hard-headedness, compassion, pride...the list goes on. But they are never in an order, and any can show at any time. Feel it. Cry. Wail. Scream.
A soulmate is someone with whom you made a pact before coming to earth. You and this soulmate agreed to teach each other something big. Actually, "big" doesn't cut it. You agreed to teach each other something monumental. These soulmate relationships quite often end in heartbreak. I met a soulmate in February. My heart broke in August. It was fast. It was wonderful. The heartbreak is painful.
My heart is in a million-minus-one pieces this time. This repair will be slow. This repair will be messy. I'll accidentally drop my heart 1,000 Times and have to re-repair sections over and over again. But you know what? It's still soft and open. I am the only one who has the power to harden my heart and I refuse to choose a perpetual hardened state. It'll harden for a few weeks...a few months...while the super glue cures. But I'll be back. Somehow. Somehow....somehow...
