by N. D. Guerre

Created on: June 22, 2008

As much as we tell ourselves that the pain we are feeling upon the ending of a relationship is due to the absence of the object of our affection, I have found in loving and in losing at least my share, that it's something else entirely.

The first hurtful jabs that we feel upon the exit of this person we were so sure of, this person we may have had "forever" plans for, is more about us than about them. Sure, our daily routine is now changed, we miss the time we spent with them and find we have to fill it now, but what is really shattered, at least at first, is our own image of ourselves.

Somewhere between "goodbye" and the tears is that feeling that we are less, inadequate, that had we been "enough" we wouldn't be without him or her now. We wouldn't be alone. The mistake in this thinking is, of course, that this is only one person and not every person who could, might or even will love us, but only one that didn't work out.

As the initial sting wears off, friends build us up, we gain some kind of understanding and perform the inevitable postmortem, and if all goes well that feeling fades and we poke a head up to find that the sun still shines, the earth still turns, and in time there will be other chances to love, to be loved.

But for some, the sun doesn't come out. For some the grief that should move along, that should change and improve, just doesn't. They continue to be stuck in this dark and sad place where they can't even consider that there will ever be another person, so long as they live, that can possibly share happiness with, who will receive all they have to give, that they can love and be loved by in return. So what's the problem? What keeps some of us stuck in the dark, lonely, sad and without hope of ever loving again?

I believe it's a fist, a closed one, one held so tight that knuckles are white and nails dig painfully into palms and nothing, absolutely nothing can loosen the grip this fist has on itself. Inside this fist is hope and fear, our vision of who we thought ourselves to be, the idea that we must make it right to be right ourselves. Inside that fist is that dead relationship. And it is not about to let go.

Consider every person you will ever know, ever care for. With the exception of our children, perhaps a rare love most of us never find, they will all be over one day. We will one day say goodbye to almost every single person we will ever love. There is that one in a million chance that you will hold the hand of your first love as he or she

• 1
• 2
• Next Page >>