calm after the storm .

A cold wind swept through town.

The vicious piercing kind of wind that cuts through clothes and heads straight to the soul.

I felt it was appropriately timed, an impending doom for what was about to come.

For it was coming.

On the heels of this storm came the worst kind of destruction- that of a broken heart.

I know.

We’re here, again.

I find myself rewriting these same words, again.

Trust me, I don’t like it either.

I had truly hoped I was done. I deserve to be done: with the heartbreak, the rejection, the reality that things don’t work out between me and the guy. I mean, things were looking up, looking good even.

But in my experience, when things seem to be too good to be true, they probably are too good to be true.

It started earlier this week.

I first sensed these feelings of dread when I felt him pull away. You know the signs: not texting back, surface responses, and sudden disinterest in spending time with you. And as much as I was trying to deny what I knew was coming, I couldn’t help but slip into the darkness.

Panic began to spread through me like cancer. Anxiety hit me with such force and aggression that I didn’t even recognize the woman reacting was actually me.

Wails like a banshee came out of my body from a place so torched and burned by pain. Tears pooled themselves under my eyes, which eventually erupted, spreading mascara all over my face like a blind artist throwing paint at a canvas. My fingers twitched, grasped for something, anything. They found themselves on two innocent parts of my body, tearing at the skin.

I couldn’t even comprehend the physical pain. All I felt was a flood of emotions, suffocating me slowly, purposefully. It wasn’t until I looked in the mirror and saw the horror of my heartbroken face and the blood on my now tender skin where my fingers so rigorously scratched, that I realized how wretched I really felt.

This isn’t right. The right guy would never make me feel this way.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t the end. The boy and I hadn’t even had our conversation yet.

As the days, hours, minutes, and seconds led up to his arrival at my humble home, all I felt was inevitable heartbreak. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. My heart beat slightly faster and I constantly felt choked with uncertainty.

Uncertainty? No. I knew what was coming.

I’ve heard it before, yet I will never get used to the feeling of a freight train crashing itself into my compassionate heart as he kindly tells me he doesn’t think we should see each other anymore.

*writing that still hurts

Part of me felt relief knowing how he truly felt. Another part of me hardened. I stood there, staring at him, at this guy I genuinely liked, not quite understanding how things that were going so good were all of a sudden going so bad.

Processing the barrage of emotions that were threatening to spill out of my mouth, all I could do was cry. And when I did speak, I did so desperately.

I tried every angle. I suggested friends with benefits, just friends, getting to know each other more to see if that missing “spark” would suddenly appear for us both, but I knew it was a dead end.

It was over.

And it broke my damn heart.

As images of our time together raced through my mind and as the realization sunk in that things would never be the same, I let the tears pour.

It hurt.

It still hurts.

And it will hurt for some time.

Even as he left, I couldn’t help but cling on to him just a little longer, not quite ready to have him leave just yet.

But he did.

What’s left now is how I let this experience shape me. What lies ahead is how I can learn from this intense reaction and fight for how long I let this pain stay.

She had a very inconvenient heart. It always insisted on feeling things ever so deeply.

I deserve better. I deserve best. Looking back, there were red flags, the worst of which was how I was treated the entire week leading up to this relationship’s demise.

I deserve someone who will love all the little things about me: the puns, the pom pom sweater, my overwhelming emotions. Someone who will understand and accept the complexity of who I am and help heal the weight of heartbreak I carry in my heart. I deserve someone who wants to build his life with me, not build me into theirs. I deserve a man who’ll drive 13 miles to see me regardless of whether they’re tired or have to get up early in the morning, because the simple act of seeing me will be worth it.

In the end, I’m grateful that it ended as early as it did. Because now I can move on.

I believe that like the wind, the pain will eventually pass. The tears will dry, my heart will slowly mend itself back together again in one piece, and I will go forward in life with the understanding that the right man will never make me feel like this again.

And the next time when a man comes, he’ll blow me away.

Just like the wind.

Open water.

I thought I was okay.

I mean, I felt okay. I actually felt better than okay, I felt good.

But then I started doubting myself, because that’s what you do when you don’t quite believe you deserve happy endings.

“Are you okay Elan? I mean, are you really okay?”

And then I started to replay the conversation over in my head, instinctively looking for reasons not to be okay. Like, I couldn’t trust these feelings of contentment.

And then I came to the conclusion that I was not, in fact, okay.

Like a plague slowly permeating my subconscious, my brain went into overdrive, overthinking every comment, every word, and of course every potential insinuation in the way it was said.

It was a conversation I’m terrified of having. The conversation that goes on between a boy and a girl who both like each other but are seemingly stuck in the “is this going further?” phase.

Historically, this is where things fall apart for me.

Either I don’t get this far, or when I do get here, my feelings aren’t reciprocated and it’s the last conversation I ever have with him. You can imagine my hesitancy for these chats, and my mentality as I intuitively anticipate the worst.

So, as I go down the rabbit hole of no return, I take everything I just heard and accepted into my heart, and I begin to nitpick it all. Like, I can’t quite believe that the boy likes me back and enjoys where we’re going.

It’s a horrible habit, I know. But a part of me is driven by the past. With the baggage of past heartbreak weighing heavily on my shoulders, I go into survival mode in an attempt to armor my heart and soften the flow of what I expect to come.

In this case though, I’m self-sabotaging. Instead of “protecting” myself, I’m prohibiting myself from potential. Potential for something more with him.

As eager as I am to jump into what I assume I want (a relationship), I’m also equally as nervous and naïve, and part of this insecurity has to do with the fact that I don’t have experience beyond this point.

And so I fall back into my safety net of not believing someone likes me back. Because that feeling.. I know how to navigate. But going forward with a guy that actually reciprocates my feelings? That’s open water and all of a sudden I’m scared to swim.

So I sit here, and choose to perseverate over the situation instead.

But I’m tired of doing so. Not only is it mentally taxing, but I’m placing unfair expectations on him and I will forever be disappointed. I really need to enjoy the process of what we’re doing.

With that, I’m taking a deep (and I mean DEEP) breath and letting these thoughts go. I’m trusting my initial feelings of contentment and I’m going to go with the flow, as it carries me out into that open water…