How do I move on?

I've been back home with my family for over a week now. Every time I come back to this place I think I've had enough healing to be able to handle it. Every time, I find out differently. I've been able to keep my feelings stifled until yesterday when I caught I brief glimpse of the man I onced loved. It I was being honest, I have to admit that I still love him.

His name is Zane.

I don't think I've ever mentioned that fact before. His name is Zane and I'm still in love with him. But, he's not the man for me. That much I know, but knowing that fact doesn't ease the pain of my heart. After I saw him, I felt my heart collapse on itself in that same horrible pain I felt when my heart was first broken.

I've only caught a glimpse of him twice since I'm been back home and every time I've even seen him for the briefest of moments, I've had that same heartbreaking pain wash over me that I've felt ever since my heart was first torn in two. It's been nine months now since I've even had a conversation with the man, and I keep wondering how much longer it's going to take to finally be over him. How long does it take to move on? How long does it take to find healing from a broken heart?

I'm ready to go back to school and find something, anything to distract me from my thoughts of him. Coming back to such a small town it's impossible to avoid conversations or glimpses of this man. But, part of me doesn't want to avoid it. I still want to see him. A huge part of me longs to be in his company again. To hear his voice, to feel his strong arms wrapped around me again. But, even if I had that for a brief moment, I know it would only make me crave more. Even knowing that it would make it worse, I still want it. I want him in my life. I want him near me. How do I move past this? How do I move on? I know I've only had nine months to get over him, and it's not much in comparision to a two year relationship. But, I sometimes feel like I'm never going to be able to move past him. Past us. How do I move on?

She dreams wild dreams

I once knew a man when I was a young girl. His name was Billy. I only have vague memories of this man. Only glimpses of this person who walked into my life for a brief moment in time. And one day, he disappeared from my life. I barely noticed. I was too young and not close enough to him to notice.

Then one day, I got a call from my sister-in-law who claimed she had just met my future husband. Billy had come back into town for a day and managed to track down my brother and sister-in-law. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, I didn't get to see him. For some reason, I was out of town. But, my sister-in-law was sold on him from the beginning. When she first talked to me about him over the phone, I didn't think anything of her claims that he should be my husband. I laughed and said I was sorry I missed him. I was sorry to not see him, it would have been good to catch up. But, somehow, my sister-in-law's words got stuck in my head. Now, with something like five years having passed since that day, I find that I still think about Billy.

I don't know when he became someone that I daydream about. Sometime, over the years, something in my head has elevated him to my dream man level. Even when I fell in love for the first time, Billy would still creep up on me. I remember having to stifle the thoughts that would spring up in my mind of him. I always considered it ridiculous to daydream about a man I hardly know and haven't seen for years. In my mind I've put all my hopes of what the man I marry will be like. It's so strange and even ridiculous really. But I still can't seem to help the thoughts that come to my mind. He's become my hope for the future. After being so wounded and hurt, I've made him into something that washes all that away.

In reality, nothing will ever happen between Billy and me. He's got a girl back home in Tennessee, and I'm in Texas going to school. The chances of us ever meeting again are slim. A part of me wants to see him just so I can see him for who is really is and not for the man that I've created in my mind. A part of me wants to see him so I can fall madly in love with him. But, really, we'll both live out seperate lives and he'll be the man that I compare every other man to until that day when I somehow meet a man who matches up. Everyone has their standards. I've just attributed those standards to a actual man.

Love lost

I have to leave. I cannot stay in this place and risk seeing him. What courage I had has been utterly spent in ending this. I do not have the courage to see him yet. One day, soon enough, I will see him again. But not yet, not now. I cannot face him now and not give in. All my strength is gone and I cannot risk falling back into him. I cannot and will not be that woman, but I have to find my strength again before I see his face. So I will leave to face him another day.

It is so surreal, so easily deniable. I cannot quite face the whole of what has been taken from me. A year of my life was spent in him. I do not have a place or a day where some part of him does not linger. He has touched every moment for a year, and even his friendship goes back as far as two. I cannot comprehend having all those moments facing me yet. Even the smells of the seasons bring him to my mind. Certain smells, certain places, and certain faces all hold him. My life for a year was spent in him. My dreams, my life, revolved around this one man who somehow made me believe he was more. I never doubted him when he told me he was through. I never doubted; I defended him against others' doubts.

Was I wrong in trusting him so much? Even now I can't believe I was. No relationship can be built off anything less than trust. But, my trust in him has been broken. I could never trust in him again like before. When he used to hold me in his arms, somehow all my fear would disappear in his strength. He was so strong that nothing could touch me in that place. Those arms were such a comfort, and somehow they calmed me regardless of what anxiety I was having. His arms made me come alive. How could that ever be had again? It was my trust in him that created that safety. Now that trust has been broken and even if he wrapped me in his arms, those arms would not be the same. That place of protection has been torn by him.

I don't understand. This man who told me I was the woman he wanted to marry, lied to me by omission. This man who said he wanted to spend his life with me kept his secrets of another life he was trying to live. He feared to tell me for fear of losing me. Yet, he has lost me. How did he so deceive himself to believe that he could have both? Why did he believe that he was ready for this relationship, for marriage? How did he know me so little to not know that this would be the end result if he continued down that path? He knew me so little, thought me different than the woman I am, or he didn't care.

It doesn't matter at this point. He has shown me who he really is. He has proven how little I mean to him. I deserve better than such a lack of love, but even I write that it is no consolation. The facts do not ease the pain.

To believe in him so much, to trust him so, to see in the best of men, to have so much faith in the person I thought he was, only to be proven wrong has made me feel I have died. I feel as though my heart has been carved from my chest. I am hollow, I am empty.

Somehow I keep wishing all this will disappear. I feel trapped in that false hope that all of this will fade away to just him and me again. I am hiding from the pain. It leaves me wondering if the distance we have spent away from each other throughout the summer was beneficial to the present situation, or if it contributes to the denial. I'm so accustomed to not seeing him for long periods of time and I wonder if that face delays my acceptance of what has happened. Yet, on the other side I am fully aware that I would be even more in love with him then I already am if our times of separation had been spent together. Which is worse? To be unable to accept the reality of what has happened because there's no ground to put it in perspective, or to love this man more than who I already felt held all of me?

I still love him. Even in all my anger and hurt, I still love him. I can't just fall out of love. It would be so much easier if, through willing it, everything would just vanish. That I could no longer love him, that I would no longer feel this pain and emptiness. But, even as I write that, I know it's a lie because whether I knowingly put it there or not, I still have hope all the same. How can a love lost not hope to be regained? But, it can never be regained, not like it was, not with him.

A Time of Heartbreak

My heart is broken. How do you begin telling the story that leads up to that? I never knew that having your heart broken causes physical pain, but I know that my heart felt like it was going to come out of my chest, broken through by the sobs that wracked my body. I never knew that heartbreak was to feel so much, and at the same time feel as if everything inside you just died.

Heartbreak is that romanticised word that leaves you wailing, clawing at the sheets in desperation to escape the pain, wishing you could pull your own heart and bury it in the ground so the screaming will be silenced. Screaming. Screams of agony as you see your hopes and dreams of a life crumble away to dust. Heartbreak is hearing the own voice you sob with become unfamiliar to your own ears because you can't recognize a cry of that much pain. Heartbreak is being wrapped in your mother's arms, barely able to stand with that unfamiliar voice wailing that it hurts everywhere.

How does a body hold together? How does it stay intact when your heart is having pieces of itself snapped off? How can a body not rip, tear, shatter, and shred itself apart? And who can explain the numbness of the soul that follows after the sobs have ended? A numbness inside that somehow still leaks tears, and leaves you trapped in your own mind chasing memories. Who can know such disconnect from reality as you shut yourself inside, and find yourself listless, numb. Yet, that broken heart still lives as evident from the pain that washes over it countless times and constricts in a feeble attempt to hide from itself. Who can understand except those who have already experienced it?

~ ~ ~

The night of the heartbreak a dear friend wrapped me up in this arms, and with my head tucked under his chin, arms wrapped around me, all I felt was that I didn't fit. It was foreign. It was unfamiliar. I wasn't the perfect fit in those arms because it wasn't him. How can you ever replace that place where no two bodies ever fit together more perfectly? I am locked away from that comfort, and I feel lost without it. How does anything compare to that comfort of a friend, the excitement of a lover, and the strength of a protector?

Where is my protector now? Where is this man who made me feel so safe, who cannot protect me from himself? Somehow, even at this end, I still thought he might fight for me. Some part of me wishes he would defy my requests and fight for me, even though I know this won't happen. Why would he fight now, when he would not fight against his own selfish desires for what he already had? If he never fought before, why would he fight now? I did not mean enough to him. His affection and love for me did not have a big enough place in his heart. I did not have a big enough place in his heart. For him to give in, even when he knew what the consequences would be, showed me that I am not important enough to him. I hold not enough affection in his heart.

A woman, who is loved by a man, is unknowingly to inspire him to be better. If I have not inspired him to be more, then I have failed. Since I obviously do not motivate him to be more, then I am not the right woman for him.

I feel betrayed. I feel cheated, and played a fool. The one thing I ever asked of him he would not do. He would not fight. He did not care enough to.

This man, this man who was the only one to have my heart, to have my love enough that I was willing to stay in this place, if it only meant I could be with him. This man who was the only one I ever wanted to marry. This man who was to be the only one I gave myself to physically. The only one I was to follow, take his name, support, and have a home with. He was the only one that I was willing to set aside my dreams for if it meant a life by his side. This man who claimed he loved me, who claimed I was the woman he wanted to marry, loved one part of his life more than me. He has lost me as a consequence, but he took my heart with him. What pieces I have left are shattered. How do I ever begin the task of finding those pieces, and putting them back together? How do you mend after being so broken?

He has broken me. I ache for his arms around me, to be wrapped in him wholly and to hear him tell me it will be alright. But, his are the arms I cannot run into. His is the one voice who cannot offer me comfort. He is the one thing I want and the only thing I cannot have, held off by necessity.

Skip around

I've never been good at starting from the past and working my way forward. I get lost in the details of today and the things that stand out the most in my mind. The whole point of starting this blog was to get my feelings, emotions, and memories into the written word. Hopefully, it will bring some healing from the past. So, while I started at the beginning of the story, I can't stay focused enough to start from that point and work my way to the present. This is just a note to clarify that my story may be confusing. But, it's just for me anyway. I'll be jumping all around and I'll probably be rather repetitive about the things that have affected me the most. Whatever brings the most emotional outpouring is what I will be focusing on. I just thought I'd put that out there...

He's in my dreams

I keep thinking about him. I keep dreaming about him. I have these vivid moments where I'm caught between conciousness and slipping off into sleep. I keep seeing him in these moments when I can't quite break free and wake up. I keep seeing my reaction to hearing that he is dead. I keep feeling that horrible sinking feeling, that heaviness washing over me as I realize that I'll never see his face again.

I hate the fact that something inside me still wants to see his face. After so many months I am still drawn to him. Something inside still wants to be near him. Something wants to go back to the way things were two years ago when we first started to fall in love. Everything seemed rosy-colored and exciting.

Now I feel I've managed to wrap myself so tightly around him that I don't know how to break free from him without the rest of me unravelling in the process. It's been months and still he has this hold over me. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be able to move on. But, that seems the typical reaction of most people who go through heartache. I'm sure I'll move on. I just never expected it to take so long. I never expected to feel the lonliness for his arms, his scent, his presence, to wash over me so unexpectedly and so heavily that I feel like I might be crused under the weight of my want for him. I feel trapped in my need for him. I know I can never go back. I don't want him back simply becuase I know my life would turn out nothing like I want or need. That's partially a lie. Something inside still wants to be with him.

I love him. He's the only man I have ever loved. I miss when I would go weak at the knees (quite literally) when he would kiss me. I miss the butterflies that would flutter all around my stomach at the sight of him. I miss him. I could go on forever about the things that I miss about him. So I'll end here before I get too wrapped up in my memories.

Problems

I'm not allowed to date. Never have been, never will be. It never really bothered me before I got with him, and only rarely did it bother me once we were together. Sure, I would have liked the freedom of being able to go out with him. After all, we were a couple. But my family has never worked that way. Dating - off limits. Spending time alone with the opposite sex- strictly forbidden. People ask me all the time how any of the girls in my family ever end up getting married. I don't have much a response to the question except that somehow it all seems to work out. Courting is how my parents would like relationships to be cultivated. It's very old-fashioned and all of their kids have cheated and been alone, unsupervised with their significant other, but somehow their rules have worked.

This man I found myself in a relationship knew the rules of the family. But, he never went to my father to ask if he could court me. Instead, our relationship took place over at people's houses and on nights when groups of friends would get together. Steadily he fell in love with me while I stayed on the brink. I liked him, there's no doubt about that. I had a crush on him and I enjoyed the affection he showered on me. But, I wasn't in love with him. In fact, my feelings for him fluctuated constantly. I knew he was falling in love with me and that terrified the crap out of me. I had endless dreams, endless ambition and falling in love and getting married wasn't supposed to happen until I was in my late twenties. But, I wanted to fall in love with him. I saw what a wonderful, strong man he was. I knew I was lucky to be with him and even while my feelings for him fluctuated, I talked myself into staying with him because I thought it would be stupid to leave a man like him.

But, he had a problem. He liked marijuana. A lot. When I first met him he hadn't touched it in nine months. Even when I got with him I never thought he would go back to it. I never would have gotten with him in the first place if I thought he had a serious problem with it. But I did get together with him and not that long into our relationship I started noticing some drastic changes in his behaviour.

When I met him and what followed

I was eighteen years old when I met him. Living in a small town, I had seen him around, but never had the opportunity to meet him. Our first conversation took place at my workplace, but being in a professional setting, our conversation was confined to business and impersonal comments designed to make customers feel more at ease. I was drawn to him from the very beginning. There was something in him that was attractive to me although he went against every physical attribute that I had always considered good looking. He was handsome, he was charming. I wanted to spend more time with this man, I wanted to learn more about him. Finally, an opportunity presented itself one night when I went to the local library and discovered him there as well. Having already established names from our previous meeting at work, our conversation easily carried into more personal things. We spent hours at the library talking with one another and a girlfriend of mine who had shown up. We talked about God and in a single night a bond was established between the three of us.

From then on the three of us spent almost every day together. It was a frenzy of lunches, dinners, late night talks about God, trips out of town for the day, campfires, and coffee dates. We became the "Three Musketeers", joined together in a instantaneous friendship that was considered an exclusive group to those looking in from the outside. The girlfriend and I spent our own time together discussing which of us this man had feelings for. It was a mystery. We could never figure out which woman he had an interest in and many times we gave up analyzing the situation, determining that he didn't have strong feelings for either one us of us and was simply looking for friendship.

This continued on for a year before things began to change. My girlfriend began developing feelings for this man, and to my own shock, I found that my own feelings of friendship toward him were steadily moving in a romantic direction. Since he was twelve years older than me, I doubted that his feelings would be returned. I felt torn. I hid my own feelings for him from my best friend, moving aside, hoping that the two of them would come together. After all, he was the best man either one of us had met and I would have been happy to see her joined together with such a strong, godly man. But, if he had deeper feelings for either of us, he kept them hidden. It did seem that perhaps he had stronger feelings for me. He brought me coffee at work almost every day. He brought me snacks as well. But, even with these gifts (which from any other man I would have interpreted as interest) he still kept a distance from me which confused everyone about his true feelings. But, like every other thing in life, his true feelings eventually came out.

We kissed each other.

I remember that night vividly. A group of friends had gotten together at a place he was house-sittting and we all ended up crashing out there. I couldn't sleep. I went downstairs to have a cigarette, and found him awake, sitting on the couch. I sat next to him and when I explained that I couldn't sleep he put his arms around me, laid my head on his chest and tried to relax me into falling asleep. Then it began. I could feel the tension rising in the moment when he began to gently rub my arms, giving me goosebumps all over. We both gave in and kissed each other.

What I remember most of all was the sinking feeling in my stomach the moment he laid his lips on mine. The intensity behind his kiss gave me the feeling that he had finally discovered a woman he could love. Being only nineteen years old at the time, I was terrified. My feelings were that of a crush, while his seemed to carry the intensity of a man who was steadily falling in love.

I felt guilt at betraying my friend's feelings for him. I felt terrified by his depth of feelings. I felt drunk with the excitement and fear of being with him. And I masked the rush of feelings and pretended to be happy only to be with him. But inside, I was terrified. I didn't know what to do, I didn't know how to backtrack. Since I saw no way out of the situation I had just created, I ran with it. I threw myself into making it work.

And because of that single decision, two years of love, hardship, heartbreak, and loss followed.

The beginning

This is my first attempt at telling my story. I need a secret place to share my stories. This is the start of a journey in pouring out my heart. There are things that I cannot share with the people surrounding my life and I need an outlet for the things I can never say to those closest to me.

Most of my story involves the relationships I've been entangled with in my life. I'm young. Twenty-two years old to be exact and my story mainly surrounds the man I thought I was going to marry. The first man I fell in love with. The first relationship I was in that lasted close to two years. He was my first love. I've heard that your first love is always the most difficult to get over. I haven't been in love with anyone since him so I wouldn't really know. But, I have found that even eight months of not speaking to someone doesn't heal you of the hurt of losing love. This is why I have begun to write about it. I have a hope that if I can spill all the thoughts of him out of my head and turn them into a piece of writing then perhaps I can be rid of this ache.

This is my introduction. This is the start I hope will bring me some healing.