It seems as though tomorrow never comes in the timespan of heartbreak.
The clock is painfully slow and everyone has their suggestion on how to beat the sadness. And they mean well. They really do. But wounds like this are seldom healed with kind words and suggestions.
The coldest winter I ever spent was the summer I learned how it felt to be cheated on. After I was aware of what happened, then came the feeling of humiliation, which was followed by the vivid mental pictures of my girl with another man.
Next was regret and then my mind reversed on every decision I took too lightly. I was hurt. I was cheated and with all I invested, I felt as if everything I gave was robbed and demolished.
But what I gave was me.
And again, in the timespan of heartache, I swore I would never feel as I did that summer. I promised never to be so involved with someone that I would forget myself, and I swore to keep that promise for as long as I lived.
After the split, I found nighttime to be the hardest. I would lie beneath the blankets on my side of the bed, but the other half was vacant. The other side was empty, which is how I felt.
I wondered how could I miss someone so much and yet hate them at the same time. I wondered how do I forget someone if they are always in my dreams, and I asked myself, “How long will I feel this way?”
Everything around me reminded me of her. Everywhere I looked there was a memory and I couldn’t take it anymore.
I took her pictures down. I took the greeting cards she gave me from the shelf, and I removed any glimpse of her memory.
I compare this process to a spiritual cleansing or romantic exorcism. I started with her photographs, and graduated to the letters she gave me throughout the years. I did my best not to read the letters. They were nothing more than a reminder, and in turn, the letters were more like fuel to an emotional fire.
I cleaned my bedroom and threw away everything that needed to be thrown out. I wiped the wooden furniture with polish. I refreshed the rugs with carpet freshener, and cleaned the windows with glass cleaner.
I replaced my thoughts with an action, and rearranged the layout of my furniture, as well as changed the direction my bed faced.
At the end of the day, my house was stripped down and cleaned. This did not stop the sadness, but it did help start the process of closure.
When it comes to emotional fallout; idled time is the mind’s worst enemy. Sitting in the swamps of my own thought would neither end my pain nor begin the process of healing.
I had to keep moving. I had to rebuild one piece at a time, and as days began to add, time grew between me and then. The question of whether I would be vulnerable again became less frequent. I became less guarded or raw, and while the twinkle of memory still struck me, and often at hard times, I was eventually able to heal.
By replacing thought with action, my effort outweighed the loneliness and heartache.
As for the promise I made…. It is true the coldest winter I spent was the summer I learned how it felt to be cheated on.
It is also true the warmest moment I’ve ever had was the winter weekend I spent in an A-frame cottage.
The heart is like flesh. True, it scars when cut, but the heart does deal, and so long as we care for it, even the toughest scars can fade.