My Ex Showed Me I Had To Change

My trials of true growth

I found myself more conflicted than I had ever thought humanly possible. The disconnect I felt between what I knew and what I felt had never contrasted so intensely. At times, it was hard to trust my own thoughts. This conflicting, disconnecting, untrustworthy factor was what I thought of as love.

My history with women has always been that of a volatile nature. Great moments equally parleyed with the bad ones. My last relationship, in particular, showcased this more than any other. The volatile nature I had grown so accustomed to now became the only identifiable trait for that relationship. The relationship started how any ideal one would. Taken aback by the beauty I saw, I fell completely head over heels. The brown skin lady that I met in the library had utterly stolen my attention. She was the brightest thing. The sweetest thing. Eventually, she would induce the love I grew addicted to.

My ex and I displayed a brilliant connection. That connection was one of trauma. We both were individuals who had experienced a tremendous amount of pain and hurt. Abused by family, mishandled by friends, and perceived completely wrong by those who often meant the most to us. We found solace in moments of vulnerability. In many ways, the candid conversations were the glue that made us stick. Those isolated moments of shared emotions held me complacent. Those little moments of emotional relief helped sustain us even in moments when leaving was the better option. I’ve realized that the reasons I held on for so long are also the very reasons that I had to go on. She was my emotional release. The ear that I always wished for, an ear that could hear me and understand. We indulged in my deepest fears, my darkest moments, my most substantial aspirations…

I held on to that comfort even when comforts lease had already left. Slowly our joyous days were marked by those of pain. We argued more than we smiled. Peace was a splintered concept when it came to us two. Those pocketed moments of shared vulnerability were now ammunition that fueled our arguments. Small disagreements were boosted by the toxic fumes we both exhaled. We ripped into the tender parts of each other. Emotional abuse was often the weapon of choice in our disputes. She held the keys to my emotions. At the drop of a word, I could be sent into an emotional frenzy. I began to recognize that I could not control myself anymore. As I look back, I’m pretty sure she understood as well, the control she had. I was addicted, and even with acknowledgment, I struggled to fully let go.

As we stayed together, we grew apart. We lied to each other, we abused each other, we tore each other down. The pain inflicted on us in the past was the same pain we inflicted on ourselves in the present. Unhealed trauma has a way of manifesting itself on those undeserving. We were full of unhealed pain. We were so profoundly lost in past grief that we could not tell the difference in our current frustration. So we ruined each other beyond the reigns of love’s control. For me, I understand now exactly why I held on so tight.

— I held on so tight to her even though she caused me deep pain, because, at one point, she was the only thing that gave me joy.

She, as I said before, was once the brightest thing for me. In an argument that typically, left me trying to fix our broken relationship, things seemed very unfamiliar. Usually, I could notice remnants of love or tenderness. In this argument I sensed none of those characteristics. However, what I did see were anger and complete disdain.

That was the moment I realized change was the only option.

I was chasing the ghost of what things used to be. Completely ignoring the simple fact of how things actually were. The love we had once shared was gone entirely. The pain that I felt was a shadowed pain. I did not really know its roots or cause, but I knew it would only last if I let her stay behind me. By looking back, I was committing emotional suicide.

The disconnect between how I felt and what I knew to be the best option was very apparent. Endless thoughts emerged about what choice I should make. The moments of joy spawned from those vulnerable instances decided to reappear. As always, my heart was arguing with my head. Both thinking they knew the best route for me to take. They both made compelling cases to be chosen. In a moment of utter despair, an old quote came to me that made my decision relatively clear. It helped me understand that there were real things I had to overcome. It helped me realize that I could no longer use my source of addiction as a crutch. I had to let her go, more importantly I had to grow… It is a decision I still battle on the daily. Nevertheless, it is a decision I know to be that of the vertical path. The quote that allowed me to change…

— “If you are afraid to be lonely, don’t try to be right” — Jules Renard