In The Wee Small Hours.

Mornings are the hardest.

And the past few have been the absolute worst.

Even after a night spent dreaming of better things, I find myself waking at 5am in sweats, heart racing, with tears threatening to spill.

As the realization sinks in that things are over, there’s nothing I can do to stop the slow trickle of waterworks as they make their way out of my eyes and onto my pillow.

Even dehydrated, my body manages to scrounge up these damn tears.

I now know the meaning of the song:“In the Wee Small Hours” by Frank Sinatra.

When your lonely heart has learned its lesson

You’d be hers if only she would call

In the wee small hours of the morning

That’s the time you miss her most of all…

Frank couldn’t have said it better.

But the guy of my dreams doesn’t call. There’s no good morning text. There’s no “thanks for coming over last night :)” sentiment lighting up my screen and making my heart flutter out of my chest.

My phone is instead empty. Barren. Devoid of contact from the guy I used to know.

Here’s the thing though: he wasn’t the guy of my dreams, and I knew this from the beginning. So how come I know that, yet continue to fall prey to these early morning devastations?

I don’t know.

That’s the truth. I don’t know.

But I’m giving myself grace. It took time to get to know him, to open up, let him into my life, even if it was only for a short while. And you know me, I jump right in with my whole passionate heart. I’m all in. So it’s only natural that it will take time to heal and let go. I can’t expect to move on as quickly as I imagine him doing so.

It’s only been a few days (loooooong ones at that) and it’s okay to admit that my wounds are still open and tender. But I need to stop scratching.

Healing my heart’s wounds means that I need to start healing my thoughts, and perseverating over what was and what could have been is torture in the way of progress.

So I’m giving myself grace. I’m allowing the tears to fall because that is natural and it is what I feel in the moment. And I do this all with the knowledge that one morning, I’ll wake up without them.

But not today.

In one of my attempts at calming my beating heart, I found myself perusing Pinterest, hunting for comforting words of wisdom.

There were plenty, but there was one that stood out. One passage that clicked within me, made me sit up in bed and pause the tears.

Instead of asking

why they left,

now I ask,

what beauty will i create

in the space they no longer

occupy?

-rudy francisco

What beauty will I create? That’s quite poignant.

The space he occupied before was flawed. I can’t tell you how many journal entries, texts to my friends, and confessions to my therapist I had where I was unhappy, uncertain, disappointed, and longing to be treated better. For a while, I think I stayed because I believe in happy endings. I had hoped for things to change. But I realize now that I was so thirsty for attention that I ignored the fact that instead of this relationship satiating me, it made me parched. And that’s not right, or healthy.

So I ask again: what beauty will I create in the space they no longer occupy?

All of these broken pieces, the shattered heartbreaks, and the countless hours spent crying over someone who wasn’t right for me aren’t defining me, they’re shaping me. And they’re building a beautiful masterpiece.

I’m forgetting how goddamn strong I am, and I’m not giving myself enough credit for the growth I’m going through.

Remember, growing might feel like breaking at first.

Battling with a broken heart, fighting the effects of COVID (having no taste or smell is torture), quarantining with one’s own thoughts, and the darkness of Alaskan winters- this is one big battle! But I’m getting through it it, slowly.

And one of these days I will come out victorious on the other side. And in the wee small hours of the morning, I will wake with no more tears…