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MY STORY OF HEALING
Sometimes, I felt immense pain until it ceased. The pain rendered me numb, unable to contain my thoughts. I dreaded solitude. Days after parting ways with my ex-boyfriend, I encountered a series of unfortunate events I never anticipated.
I loved him and feared losing him. The idea of a day without him terrified me. My life revolved around him. After eight months, my fears materialized. He departed without closure when I needed him the most. Regardless of my hurt, I never begged or cried; I let him go.
Some may argue I should have fought for love. But what do you do when someone repeatedly disrespects you, confident in your forgiveness? How do you cope when the one meant to protect you becomes your predator? I loved him, but I decided I was no longer his repository of apologies. Though I wished for us to work, I recognized we weren't meant to be.
Reality struck after a week; I started missing him, recalling our memories. Despite the longing, I vowed never to reach out, as giving my all in the relationship was enough. He never reached out either. I never realized how hurt I was until I started struggling to leave bed, waking up with fog in my mind, and finding it hard to eat. I was so adept at hiding my pain that none of my friends saw what I was going through.
I isolated myself and became comfortable being alone. I vowed never to allow myself to succumb to depression. In those moments of despair, I remembered a technique I read somewhere: if you feel alone, take a book and a pen, then write down your frustrations. I did that, and it worked miraculously.
Gradually, I regained my power. I started going out more often, learned to take care of myself, and focused on looking good and smelling nice. I discovered happiness without him, something I never imagined would happen. A few months after healing, he somehow came across my picture on Instagram.
I never knew he hated seeing me happy without him until he left a comment on one of my Instagram pictures. I never replied to him! When he couldn't bring me down, he tried coming back. I reminded him that it was too late and that he should move on with his life already.
© Virginia mule
I loved him and feared losing him. The idea of a day without him terrified me. My life revolved around him. After eight months, my fears materialized. He departed without closure when I needed him the most. Regardless of my hurt, I never begged or cried; I let him go.
Some may argue I should have fought for love. But what do you do when someone repeatedly disrespects you, confident in your forgiveness? How do you cope when the one meant to protect you becomes your predator? I loved him, but I decided I was no longer his repository of apologies. Though I wished for us to work, I recognized we weren't meant to be.
Reality struck after a week; I started missing him, recalling our memories. Despite the longing, I vowed never to reach out, as giving my all in the relationship was enough. He never reached out either. I never realized how hurt I was until I started struggling to leave bed, waking up with fog in my mind, and finding it hard to eat. I was so adept at hiding my pain that none of my friends saw what I was going through.
I isolated myself and became comfortable being alone. I vowed never to allow myself to succumb to depression. In those moments of despair, I remembered a technique I read somewhere: if you feel alone, take a book and a pen, then write down your frustrations. I did that, and it worked miraculously.
Gradually, I regained my power. I started going out more often, learned to take care of myself, and focused on looking good and smelling nice. I discovered happiness without him, something I never imagined would happen. A few months after healing, he somehow came across my picture on Instagram.
I never knew he hated seeing me happy without him until he left a comment on one of my Instagram pictures. I never replied to him! When he couldn't bring me down, he tried coming back. I reminded him that it was too late and that he should move on with his life already.
© Virginia mule
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