Tag Archives: broken heart

Reclaiming My Missing Pieces

I am reclaiming my missing pieces. The first time I stopped liking something because of a broken heart I was in high school. I was a big fan of a certain variety of Liz Claiborne perfume. My ex boyfriend’s new girlfriend wore it too.  If I remember correctly I threw out almost a full bottle. It goes without saying my working class parents were livid. It was not inexpensive, but I couldn’t bear to smell like her.

In the years that followed music.

Movies

TV shows

Restaurants

Type of foods

Even certain objects.

This one is easily the most embarrassing I have a beautiful charm necklace. It’s simple but it has my three favorite things on it: a shoe, cassette tape, a unicorn.  I stopped wearing because a woman who was hitting on my boyfriend at the time was obsessed with unicorns.

As I type this I realize that was ridiculous, but when you are hurting or are hurt you find ways to run away from it. Protect yourself. Even if it means sacrificing some of your favorite things.

You know I even changed my hair because I didn’t want to have the same haircut as someone who had hurt me?

And truth be told, it’s a great haircut.

Not only do women drastically change their appearance to get over a broken heart so women give away pieces of themselves. I am starting to realize those pieces I gave away I should have held onto tightly. By tucking them away or throwing them away, I was letting the people who hurt me, hurt me even more.

I might add, that girl in high school had no idea she cost my parents $50 and I can’t imagine she’d care.

I ended up with a really awful hairstyle for awhile there.

Really awful.

The only person who suffered was me.

Sometimes it is good to give certain things up. Truly. You do need to walk away from memories or things to protect your heart, but what I’m learning in my old age is don’t give YOURSELF away.

I love unicorns. I love that necklace. I got it with one of my best friends. That is what I should focus on.

I enjoy an expensive perfume but I’ve outgrown Liz Claiborne as have millions of women.

I was listening to Brass in Pocket with my Dad long before I met that Lacrosse player who broke my heart, he doesn’t deserve our song.

There are still songs I avoid and if certain movies are on I change the channel,but now it’s because of me, not them.

Heartbreak is a slippery slope Mommas and I am by no means a sage but this is what I know…

If you love that song listen to it loudly

If that perfume smells fantastic wear it.

Be really sure about bangs.

Really sure

Those things were yours long before the heartbreak. But if it hurts too much maybe don’t toss them but find a beautiful box to keep them in until you’re ready to bring them back into your life.

In the meantime Mommas remember who you are. You are- as I like to say magical. Truly. You have other humans who count on you and love you with their whole heart regardless of what kind of perfume you wear.

 

Much love Mommas

<3Caprise

The Fixer Of Broken Boys Part 12: I’m Not The Marrying Kind

I am not the marrying kind…

After the debacle of the one that should have never happened, I didn’t date for almost two years. On purpose. If I did date I broke up with the guy very quickly, walls were very high.

Out of respect for my daughter I’m going to go about this a bit differently…

I was introduced to my ex husband by a friend. He was the complete opposite of anyone I had ever dated and I thought that was a good idea.

Since I referred to him as ex I think you already know.

Here’s the thing you have a type for a reason. I believe that. I relish differences and believe strongly successful relationships are about caring and compromise.

But you have a type because it works. He was not my type. Not even close.

If you love someone you go to True Value even if you’d rather be at Target.

My ex believed the only person who should compromise was me.

A year after my daughter was born I just couldn’t anymore.

My leaving was not well received. I was accused of things that weren’t happening. My family was not nearby. It was incredibly hard and went against everything I believed in. It rained the day I moved. My Mom, me and G…

I was a wreck. I was lost. I will be honest it is nine years later and I am still at a loss when my daughter is not home.

It is is beyond true what they say when you hit bottom you find out who your people are. Fast.

Sadly they aren’t the ones you’d hope they would be.

Do me a solid please don’t ever tell anyone to get over it. When your world is falling apart and you are making $8.50/hr paying rent, child care, with a husband who won’t divorce you so you can’t get help and you’re trying to figure out how you can pay a lawyer … please don’t tell that person to get over it.

That’s helpful. Not at all.

Thanks

How about sit with me

How about let me cry

 

~~Caprise

Single Mom of the amazing Dbl G
Teacher
Sometime DJ
T-shirt collector
Henry Rollins Middle Aged Punk Prom Date

The Fixer of Broken Boys Part 10: The Guitar Player

The Guitar Player…

After college I dated but no one stuck. I will be honest I was why. I might have still been hung up on Captain of Sport I don’t understand. AlsoI was picky. Silly picky. Maybe unfair picky. I also had a bad habit of stacking the men I was dating. I’m not proud of it but it was not uncommon for me to break up with someone and have someone waiting in the wings.

I was young – I had some pretty set rules to date me. Contrary to popular belief I was a pretty tame dater. Which was not a deterrent.

The guitar player almost wasn’t. I originally was set up with the lead singer of his band who forgot to tell me he had a live in girlfriend. The exact quote “maybe that’s his sister, nope you shouldn’t kiss your sister like that.”

Lead singer is now a famous movie director- you have definitely seen his movies. I stand by my choice.

The night that all went down the guitar player who had never talked to me asked me to hang out with him after their show.

“I just want to know you.”

He had this incredible voice. I have a thing about voices. His is one of my favorites. He also has this smile not smile he does. There are so many things.  Some are too precious to share. Sorry not sorry.

No one had never said that to me. That they want to know me. He meant it. I was shyly grilled for several hours. He was older and I would find out later he and the lead singer played a game of Horse to determine if he could ask me out.

Aww romance.

We would date on and off for two very rough years.

Not because he was a bad guy. But I was not ready for what he brought to the table. I was 22 and trying to find my place in the world dating an incredibly handsome, incredibly talented older man dealing with crippling anxiety.

At that time there was no name for it.

Therapy was limited and the solution was lots of medication.

Our relationship became one where I felt I did all the work. 80% I did. Financially I pulled the weight. Emotionally I pulled the weight. At least it felt that way.

We loved each other.

I still love him. But when you struggle with your own self worth and want what everyone else has it’s hard to hold together a relationship with someone who is t healthy enough to be what you need.

When he could though… and if he had god damn I would have married that man.

But he couldn’t and didn’t.

We gave up.

I gave up.

My heart very broken. Still is  now.

The guitar player will be back- but unfortunately I spend the worst year of my life with the one that should have never been.

~~Caprise
Single Mom of the amazing Dbl G
Teacher
Sometime DJ
T-shirt collector
Henry Rollins Middle Aged Punk Prom Date

I Knew Then

I knew. I knew a thousand times over.

I promise myself that I will write this once. I will write and I will leave it. I won’t retouch it or second guess it. I will not apologize for it.

I won’t forget it but I will not live in it. I will not bathe in the sadness of it. The anguish of the emptiness that defines this part of my life.

This hollow part in my center.

I have not allowed myself to really feel despair to this point. The literal mourning to my core that makes me question, can I do this today? Can I do this life?

I spent years, ten of them married, making sure that someone else was OK. I lived for it. I lived to take care of someone else. I felt responsible. I never felt trapped or obligated. I never felt stuck or unsure.

If anything, I was sure. I was certain. I was certain that if I tirelessly loved this man without end I could make him better. I could make him love me the way that I loved him.

I could make him love being a father. I could make him love being a husband. I could make him love his life. I could wait him out. He would return to me.

I really did believe that.

But underneath, I knew.  If I replayed all the things he’s said or done to me that he’s long forgotten, or buried in shame, I knew a thousand times.

We stood outside all that.

I loved him relentlessly through everything.

I loved him through addiction. Recovery. Relapse. Unemployment. Bankruptcy. Home loss. Mental illness. Lying. Betrayal. Loneliness. I had such an uncompromising determination to believe that so much was out of his control to the point that no matter the amount of hurt it caused me, it suddenly occurred to me that it would never actually end.

I clung to small moments of happiness like a child clings to their lovey in their sleep. I carried them around like fragile pieces of glass, and they got me from minute to minute, month to month…year to year.

I know what it feels like to love someone so loyally and unconditionally that I overlooked and compartmentalized so much and so well that I literally drowned in my own care giving. I drowned out everything I ever wanted, everything I ever thought it would be, everything it should have been because I believed that somewhere, deep down, the man I married was inside.

But when the divide between two people in a queen bed is so wide that being in the same room literally gave me panic attacks, or when reaching for your lover’s hand and they don’t respond, or worse, pull away, you know. When they lie in the dark and whisper “You deserve better than I can give you” and roll over to the other side. When you glance in their direction across the room, and they look away…every time. When you send the kids for a sleepover so you can eat a meal that consists of something other than fish sticks or pancakes and make love all over the house, or dance in the kitchen, or get silly drunk on the deck or go for a walk and be quiet…and none of that actually happens and instead you end up on two different couches, in the dark, dying inside.

That is what the part before the end feels like.

I remember following him out to his car one morning before work. I didn’t have shoes on and the driveway needs repaving. The gravel hurt my feet. My insides hurt more.

I said “I just want you to see me. I just want to be seen. You look right past me.”

He said nothing. And left.

This is how countless conversations went. Words came out of my mouth and into the air and disappeared.

I disappeared. Figuratively, then literally.

I left him at a wedding.

I could not bear the thought of sitting quietly with a smile plastered to my face congratulating hopeful, joyful newlyweds, while my marriage made its final descent.

I wanted to scream my vows in his face until my voice was hoarse:

“Today I am certain.  I am certain that you are the man that I was meant to live my life beside.  I stand here and I see our lives before me.  I see lazy Sunday’s and crazy work weeks, love notes taped to doors and good night kisses, stolen covers, and missing socks.  I see family, and children, and laughter and a love between us that is too big to measure.  I look forward to a life full of the planned, but mostly the unexpected. My love for you finally leaves me speechless.  Undoubtedly, from this point forward, I give you my hand to hold, and my heart to keep.”

I left the hotel room and looked back only once. The space where I wished he was standing was empty.

And I knew. It was the final time that I knew.

I took a $93 taxi and an hour drive back to what was once our home and slipped my wedding rings into my purse. As many times as I had thought about that moment before, when it finally came, it hit me like a thousand violent waves.

It was the most freeing heartache of my life.

Jessica-Awesome Single Mama