I’ve had many trials, from taking my first flight alone to getting on a roller coaster for the first time. The most difficult, by far, was breaking up with a long term girlfriend. At the time, I felt it wasn’t right for me and little notions of this kept getting into cracks of my psyche. When I sat down to dinner one night, the dam broke and realization flooded over me in a cold wave. So I stepped away from my relatives into another room and made the call.
Tears rolled down my face. Sobs erupted from my throat. My heart seemed to tear itself to pieces. I didn’t want to admit it was over, but confronting this was the right thing to do, I knew. Even then, I still tried to rationalize it and try to make it work, but we both knew that it was done. I felt ragged and worn, like a washcloth that had been wrung out and had crusted over, the tears refusing to stop for the entire night.
The days that followed were in a horrible limbo. I rarely smiled, I retreated into the guest room for solitude, and even when surrounded by my family, I had never felt more alone in my life. Everyone reached out to me, even her, but nothing could pierce the strange otherness that had taken over me. I checked myself into a depression group when I found that I had lost my desire to live, but that only made things worse. Hearing about everyone else talking about being molested or losing their sons before their time made me feel like a burden with my small problems and I wanted to stop living more than ever.