Longing for what I lost
Three months ago, I broke up with my girlfriend. She had been my best friend in medical school before we started dating. In the beginning, things were great: I was finally in a relationship with a wonderful person who I could see myself being with for the rest of my life. Granted, the initial euphoria was partly associated with the naivete of one's first serious relationship, but I wanted to make it work and so I dove in head-first.
Unfortunately, putting all of my effort into the relationship helped to make it unsustainable. At first, I relished the idea of doting on her whenever possible, I wanted to feel needed. That's not to say that she was high maintenance; on the contrary, in many ways, I lucked out as she only asked that I spend time with her and listen to her when she needed an ear. But as time went on, I realized that I had lost a portion of myself in order to keep the relationship going; to make matters worse, she had become accustomed to my constant presence. Combine those with poor timing (which had plagued us throughout our entire relationship), personality issues, and growing questions as to whether or not we were really meant to be together, and I eventually found myself losing interest. In the end, I did the right thing but in the worst way possible, callously causing her to suffer in a way she did not deserve and leaving me with guilt that I'll never live down.
We've been trying to repair the damages since then so that we can maintain some form of friendship. At first, I feared that any contact with her would cause my resolve to weaken, that I might return to a relationship that I felt was doomed unless we both became radically different people from who we are. Despite the tears that I caused her, she has moved on more swiftly, as I now find that the novelty of bachelorhood has worn off and I miss everything I took for granted with her. She knew me well enough to call me out, to tell me that I have to let go of past events, regardless of whose fault it was, if we were to move on; otherwise, we would never regain any form of friendship that we once had. I'm lucky that she understands the both of us better than I do, and she's one of the best people I know. I don't deserve her as my friend.
I sleep tonight knowing that she is in a better place than I. With the scent of her hair on my pillow, the void that was once filled with her presence is howling louder and more melancholy than ever. My certainty regarding the fate of our then-relationship has waned, and I find myself relying on repetition of what I think I know to keep me from probing deeper to find a possibly more painful truth. Despite the smile on my face and nonchalant attitude, I find myself unsure of my footing. I used to think I was better than others, that I was above making the same mistakes that they made, that I was wiser than the average person and capable of navigating a relationship with less difficulty. I realize now that I'm just another guy, probably more foolish than average, capable of interpersonal catastrophes with greater efficiency than I could have ever imagined.
A part of me wants her back, something that I never would've imagined that I could feel if you had asked me a few months earlier. She says that I'm looking for someone to fill the hole with, and that I don't truly miss her. But is that reason enough for tears? I'm not sure...I'm not sure about anything anymore...I'm lost...
Unfortunately, putting all of my effort into the relationship helped to make it unsustainable. At first, I relished the idea of doting on her whenever possible, I wanted to feel needed. That's not to say that she was high maintenance; on the contrary, in many ways, I lucked out as she only asked that I spend time with her and listen to her when she needed an ear. But as time went on, I realized that I had lost a portion of myself in order to keep the relationship going; to make matters worse, she had become accustomed to my constant presence. Combine those with poor timing (which had plagued us throughout our entire relationship), personality issues, and growing questions as to whether or not we were really meant to be together, and I eventually found myself losing interest. In the end, I did the right thing but in the worst way possible, callously causing her to suffer in a way she did not deserve and leaving me with guilt that I'll never live down.
We've been trying to repair the damages since then so that we can maintain some form of friendship. At first, I feared that any contact with her would cause my resolve to weaken, that I might return to a relationship that I felt was doomed unless we both became radically different people from who we are. Despite the tears that I caused her, she has moved on more swiftly, as I now find that the novelty of bachelorhood has worn off and I miss everything I took for granted with her. She knew me well enough to call me out, to tell me that I have to let go of past events, regardless of whose fault it was, if we were to move on; otherwise, we would never regain any form of friendship that we once had. I'm lucky that she understands the both of us better than I do, and she's one of the best people I know. I don't deserve her as my friend.
I sleep tonight knowing that she is in a better place than I. With the scent of her hair on my pillow, the void that was once filled with her presence is howling louder and more melancholy than ever. My certainty regarding the fate of our then-relationship has waned, and I find myself relying on repetition of what I think I know to keep me from probing deeper to find a possibly more painful truth. Despite the smile on my face and nonchalant attitude, I find myself unsure of my footing. I used to think I was better than others, that I was above making the same mistakes that they made, that I was wiser than the average person and capable of navigating a relationship with less difficulty. I realize now that I'm just another guy, probably more foolish than average, capable of interpersonal catastrophes with greater efficiency than I could have ever imagined.
A part of me wants her back, something that I never would've imagined that I could feel if you had asked me a few months earlier. She says that I'm looking for someone to fill the hole with, and that I don't truly miss her. But is that reason enough for tears? I'm not sure...I'm not sure about anything anymore...I'm lost...