It’s finally over. A decade in the making, it ended before it even started. In truth, the past several days have been difficult. The only thing that has kept me relatively sane is an emergency stash of meds. It has allowed me to numb myself in ways that I needed. As much as I love the euphoria, it’s not a place that I can stay for very long (not enough meds). I know, it’s arguably a coward’s way to deal with (avoid) some of the stresses of life. But sometimes you have to do what you have to do.
Life is never as we expect it to be. And although some paths are clear, others are much more mired. For the first time, last week I admitted publicly (on my podcast) to have still been in love with someone from my past, wait for it, who isn’t my husband. What I will say before finally putting this to bed and burying it deep is that it’s been a mind-f@$k for a decade. I loved this person entirely and gave of myself freely. He was the one person I felt the most connected to on more levels than anyone else. For me, and apparently me alone, there was just something extraordinary. Odd I know, given the brevity of our physical interaction. All I know for a fact is that if someone is unwilling to tell you how they feel, are willing to string you along and play mind games, they don’t see or appreciate you for who you are. Their inability, to be honest, doesn’t make you less of a person, just a little bit more broken and worn for wear. Continue reading “The Last Heartbreak — The Death of Voldemort”