Posts tagged ‘Broken heart’

September 12, 2011

It’s My Party and I’ll Cry If I Want To

by bye2mrwrong


You would cry too if it happened to you. Yes it’s my birthday and I am officially old. I know I said that last year and the year before that too. But at least back then my life seemed to be on track. I had a great job, a wonderful husband, and I was already entertaining the thought of having kids. Now it’s all just fallen to pieces. And I can’t seem to get them back into place. No amount of glue seems to be able to place those pieces where they belong and keep them together. So in the deep of the night, when I can’t fall asleep, and my thoughts haunt me, I secretly fall apart.

I HATE him. I really do. For making me vulnerable. For making me endure so much pain. For hurting me like I never knew someone could hurt. For making false promises. For feeding me lies. For wasting my time. For taking the best years of my life. For throwing them away. For making me love him, but not loving me enough.  For wanting to stay friends now that we are divorced. For asking about me and showing interest. For knowing how to manipulate me. For the greatest mind f#uck of all times. For making me feel guilty, even now. For making me feel like a victim. For taking me away from my comfort zone. For making me have to start a brand new life. For making me doubt myself. For making me so insecure. For loving her. For making me feel so unloved. For making me feel unworthy. For making me feel I wasn’t enough. For making me feel unsexy. For making me feel I will never get what I want in love, in life. For making me lose faith yet still have hope. For making me a skeptic, yet not enough to protect my heart. For making me feel I should just settle for Mr. Right now, rather than Mr. Right. For making me crave the touch of a man. For making me miss being hugged. For making me feel miserable and lonely. For the depression that attacks me especially at night. For not loving me unconditionally until death do us part. For creeping into my thoughts and somehow controlling them. For breaking me, and shattering my heart. For not being the one.

I hate him for doing this to me. Or am I doing this to myself? Maybe I hate me.

September 6, 2011

Behind the Mask

by bye2mrwrong

Behind this mask, behind the pretty face, and that beautifully innocent smile; behind the giggles and the gentle voice, behind the pretense of confidence and self-assurance; is a vulnerable girl, damaged, broken, hurt and lonely.

A girl, who craves attention, yearns for a hug and a passionate kiss. A girl who wants to be loved and knows that she still has so much more love in her to give. A girl who wants to wake up entangled in someone else’s arms. A girl who longs for the warmth of a man, his body engulfing mine. A girl who lacks patience because she wants it all and she wants it now.

And the more I want it, the more I realize that I am alone. Alone and lonely. Feelings of loneliness ambush me especially at night. While my days may be busy and full of laughter, my nights are sleepless, endless and lonesome. On those lonely nights thoughts, uncontrollable and unwanted, invade my mind and consume me leaving me sad, mad, even enraged. Sometimes those thoughts carry on into the daylight. It can happen suddenly and it always catches me off guard. Usually it happens when I’m alone, without my mask. When I allow myself to feel. The tears well up in my eyes and I just start crying. It could be in the car while I’m driving; suddenly an old tune on the radio reminds me of him. Sometimes it’s just an old couple walking together hand in hand; the vision of them fills me with envy and remorse of that future that I so wanted and am afraid I will never have. Sometimes it’s a pregnant lady or a baby laying there so sweet and silent in their stroller, eyes twinkling with laughter looking straight at me.

I know I should learn to love myself first, before I let someone else love me. I know I should learn to enjoy myself, to be independent and on my own. Yet still I can’t help but wonder, is this life better? Can I live with this loneliness? I was happy as part of a couple. I was happy with compromising. I was satisfied in my life. Content with my comfort. I didn’t ask for much more. Why did he have to take it away from me?

I want it back, that life. Not necessarily with him. But I want the comfort. Maybe it’s that little control freak in me that just wants to know what each day will bring. No surprises, no butterflies, no highs or lows. Just an easy peaceful feeling that comes with being comfortable. With knowing the man at my side. Knowing I don’t have to impress him, but he’ll still love me. Knowing how to make him happy. Knowing he will make me smile.

I want to shed the mask, without feeling vulnerable and exposed. I want to tear down the wall I built without getting hurt. I want to remove the pain that lies beneath. I want to move forward without regret of the past I once had, or the future I dreamed of.

September 5, 2011

Masking the Pain

by bye2mrwrong

She wipes away her tears and puts her mask on when the phone rings, telling the person on the other end of the line that everything is fine. I will not expose myself she thinks. I will not take off my mask and show the world the true me, the one locked inside.

Most of us wake up each morning and put on a mask. We blur our imperfections with makeup and we dress for the part we aim to play. The perfect disguise to shield us. A fake smile, a false laugh. We hide our flaws, tuck in our pain, and walk tall and proud pretending. We watch others around us and envy them for their seemingly perfect life. The couple walking down the street with their fingers entangled in each other, the skinny girl with the perfect skin, the rich business man with his fat wallet. They seem to have it all…

But do they really? Are they as happy as you think? Don’t let anyone fool you, behind that tough skin, lies a soft heart that was once broken. Behind that strong shield, the pretence of aloofness and indifference lies a hurricane of emotions. Lesson # 40: If We All Threw Our Problems in a Pile and Got a Look at Everyone Else’s, We’d Fight to Get Back Our Own. “Most of us are walking around blind to the gifts that we have been given until we see the problems others have endured”. Other people’s scars are no better than our own.  We are all broken, just in different ways. We have all loved and lost, we have all felt pain, we have all endured grief. But some of us manage to hide it better than others, masking the hurt and the pain. We may not be aware that behind the strong confident business man is a scared boy with fear of abandonment. Or behind the beautiful woman with her painted face, lies a lonely girl insecure of her own body.

Don’t be fooled into thinking someone else’s life is easier than yours, or that the grass is greener on the other side. Take a second and reflect on the things you’re grateful for. Learn to appreciate what you have before times makes you appreciate what you had. Imagine yourself without it, and then you’ll see how much you still have to be grateful for.

August 20, 2011

No Escaping You

by bye2mrwrong

I only thought about you once today. I never stopped.

Lying on my back I slowly wake up as the sun’s rays hit my face, shining brightly through the window. Suddenly I realize what day it is. I turn away from the sun light, shut my eyes tightly and try to forget. Maybe I can sleep the day away, let it skip me.

But it’s too late. Thoughts of you drift into my head and I try hard to remember the exact feeling I had last year as I woke up next to you. What did we do on this day? What were we feeling?

Conversations we had run through my mind. I see your face above me, smiling sweetly. For a moment I fall asleep again. In my dreams I feel your warmth and love. Nothing has changed, we are together. You’re lying next to me. My fingers entangled in your hair, and my leg on top of yours hugging your body close to me.

Then I wake up again and tears fill my eyes. Instead of thinking about the past, my thoughts now drift onto the future. How happy we could have been. I can still imagine us together. I can see us lying in our bed. I look around, everything is so familiar. The color of the walls, the design on our favorite bed sheets, the smell of your cologne wafting in the air, the sound of your voice, the touch of your skin.

I fall asleep again hoping not to plunge once more into the prison of my mind. I yearn to escape my thoughts. But there is no escaping you today.  Maybe by next year it won’t sting so hard, it won’t feel so real. Maybe then something in me will have changed. And your memory will be a distant one. A bitter-sweet memory that will have faded away.

August 16, 2011

Lesson #30: The Passage of Time Heals Almost Everything. Give Time Time

by bye2mrwrong

How many times have people tried to comfort us with the slogan: “It takes time to heal”. I know I’ve heard it plenty. And every time the only thing I can think of is: “…but how long?”

Yup this lesson is a lesson of patience. In this lesson we must learn that we cannot rush our wounds to heal, our hearts to mend, or our minds to let go. Some things just take time.

But before I came to the realization that times takes time, I definitely can attest to being guilty of trying to rush the process. It didn’t take long before I started dating again. Before I went out, danced, flirted, and gave men that look. It actually was even extremely short before I met my rebound, before I fell in lust, and before I found myself shattered yet again. I was a broken girl on a mission. Find my next victim. Search and conquer. Hunt down Mr. Right.

But not giving myself enough time to grieve my loss did not help me heal. I’ve said before that I feel like after taking 2 steps forward, I’ve taken 2 steps back. To that one of my readers commented saying that maybe I hadn’t fallen backwards, but rather hadn’t gotten as far ahead as I thought; adding that often instead of grieving we immerse ourselves in little distractions, thinking we’ve moved on. He was so right. Hastily rushing, jumping from one relationship to the next is exactly that, a distraction from feeling the pain, a distraction from grieving the loss, a distraction from healing.

So I’ve decided to take a breather. Pause and stop trying to rush forward. While I may have a biological clock ticking, I also have a heart that needs  to go through some stitching, mending and an extensive recovery.  So meanwhile, until I heal. Until I feel that I can open my heart again. Until I long once more for warmth and comfort from a man rather than my family. Until I yearn for passionate kisses. Until I unlock myself to the new world around me… I have sheltered myself from new pain to seep in. I have built up a wall around the shattered pieces of my heart.

And when the time is right maybe Mr. Right might find a way to chip at that wall and slowly tear it down. Or maybe time itself will find a way of melting the barriers that have been built, opening my heart up again to a fresh new start.

August 6, 2011

Lesson #26: Frame Every So-Called Disaster With These Words: “In Five Years, Will This Matter?”

by bye2mrwrong

Life is a journey, and in that journey we hit bumps, we reach difficult cross roads and dead ends; we stumble, we fall, we bruise, we hurt and we cry. Life’s journey can be harsh and difficult, the lessons learned extreme. Sometimes surviving the journey is the worst kind of pain.  And while we feel that pain consuming us, we believe that life won’t be the same afterwards. We somehow expect the world to STOP.

But it doesn’t. Life goes on like nothing has happened. You wake up in the morning only to realize that you’re still alive. The sun has risen again, there is light out and a new day has arrived. Like everyone else around, you continue. Days, Month, Years pass by. Slowly the pain fades away, leaving only a mark in its place.

Professedly today’s disaster will have limited if any impact on our life say 5 years from now. Our perceptions of events change over time.  I guess the point of today’s lesson is just that. If and when the pain of our so-called disaster fades away, will it matter? When we were little, if we fell and wounded ourselves we would run back to mommy to wipe away the blood, kiss our bruise, and make the pain go away. If the fall was hard enough to leave a scar we could still look back at it and be reminded of the fall. But the pain is long forgotten. I suppose the same goes for the deeper wounds, the emotional ones. The ones where the scar is not as visible on the outside, as it is on the inside. Even those scars heal, even broken hearts mend. The question standing is how soon do we forget? How long does it take before it doesn’t really matter? One minute, one hour, one week, one month, one year, one lifetime?

I’ve found out that so much can happen in a year, let alone five. And with my luck anything and everything can happen in a year. In one year I found out that my husband was having an affair, I went for the first time to a psychologist, I lost my job, I got divorced, I fell in lust, I left my home, flew to another country, and after 10 years out I moved back in with my parents.

So will it matter in 5 years from now that I was cheated on, that my heart broke, that I divorced?

I guess that depends what the next 5 years hold for me. If my future turns out to be all sunshine and roses, if I find my dream job and a dream man to go along, if I get married to this dreamy lad, and have his child, if every choice I make from now on will be a success…well then I guess that everything that happened until now (including and especially getting divorced) won’t really have mattered. And actually may be a blessing in disguise.

But if I meet a slew of men, only to find out that none of them are right, but only right now. If I discover that I cannot find a job here, or cannot afford to rent a place on my own, If I feel that I am lonely without my old friends, and I have not met any new ones; if being so close to my family will drive me up the wall and cause a family feud…..then it will matter. It will matter that I divorced and that this was the path that it led me on.

July 19, 2011

Sharing My Tears

by bye2mrwrong

We owe each other nothing.
We said our goodbye some time ago.
Yet I still think about you all the time.

Today I had to call my ex-husband. Yes we are as of the 4th of July officially Divorced. How ironic that on independence day I gained my independence. Funny how dates seem to have some sort of hidden meaning that will always resonate in our minds.

I needed him to send over the official documents. The international ones with an apostille stamp. And although he was very helpful, and did not for a second make a fuss about having to go to the town hall, wait there patiently in line, and in actuality do all my dirty work for me; I dreaded making that phone call.

It’s not that I despised the thought of having to ask him for a favor, although it definitely wasn’t my first choice. I knew he would do it for me. But I dreaded hearing his voice. I knew what the sound of his oh-so-familiar voice would do to me. And I was right. I went to my bedroom, locked the door and before dialing that number I broke down and wept. I shed tears of regret and remorse. Tears of anxiety and nerves. Finally after a few minutes I regained my strength, wiped away my tears, and dialed his number; a number I know is one of the few that although is on speed dial, I will always remember by heart.

The conversation was very business-like. I explained the situation and asked him for his assistance. But then he did what I knew he would. He asked me how I was. Immediately tears welled up in my eyes again, and with a lump in my throat I told him I preferred not to have that conversation. He kindly accepted and we both hung up. Of-course I then had a few more minutes of silent tears, before I could continue on with my day.

When I left our home I wanted it to be the last time I would ever see him, ever hear him, ever be touched by that kind of pain again. It seems that even from far away he has me all tied up in emotion. Even with miles between us I still Flinch at the thought of him, at the sound of his voice, at the whisper of his name.

How long can a girl stay broken, haunted, tortured by her ex?

July 8, 2011

The Girl From Yesterday

by bye2mrwrong

“She took a plane across the sea to some foreign land.
Stayed at home and tried so hard to understand.
How someone who had been so close could be so far away.
And she became the girl from yesterday.”

I landed with both feet on the ground. Eyes blurred by tears, runny nose, splitting headache and burning red cheeks. With a storm stirring in my heart, it had been one of the most emotional days since D-day. It had been the day I said goodbye.

Saddened by your late apologies but touched by your tears; you left me confused by your sudden display of love. Stirred by sweet memories, you left me tangled in emotions which I have not felt in quite some time. I turn to leave it all behind. You take my hand, embrace me for the last time and beg me to stay your friend, but I refuse. I have left you with my last words; I have left you with pieces of my broken heart.

Hours pass by leaving me to sulk in my own feelings, to re-live the last moments over and over in my mind, to wonder my “what ifs”, worry my worries, and let my river of tears flow out. On the other side they wait for me. My life support, my blood, my family which have been holding my hand from afar. I approach them slowly, weary and hesitant. Afraid of my own reaction to such unconditional love. But then I see their smiling faces, and open arms. Ready to catch me if I fall, to support me if I stumble. They have come to pick me up and take me away from the pain. The pain which I hope I have left behind; there in that house which you now have to live in. That house of broken promises, filled with memories but bursting with emptiness.

As I am enwrapped by warmth and love, I remember why I wanted to come back here. I remember that after the storm the sun will shine again.

April 17, 2011

Forbidden Temptation

by bye2mrwrong

There’s no greater pleasure than surrendering to temptation.

You had been out of my mind for years, buried deep in my past. You had been forgotten, and the tears I shed for you had already long dried. Then unexpectedly as if from another universe you reappeared and waltzed yourself back into my life.

Little effort did you need to intrigue me once more, re-capture my attention, and melt me in the palm of your hand. Pretentious and eloquent you seduced me with your mischievous and sexy words, whispering sweet nothings into my ears as you began to play a little game with my heart.

Thoughts of you began wafting through my mind endlessly, and my infatuation with you grew as the days passed by. I yearned for you with such fervent desire. I hungered for us to be together in the most carnal way imaginable. You had become an addiction for which I wanted an overdose. Irresistible to me, I could no longer wait for your touch. And so I took a risk and let down my guard. I rushed into your arms, and in return you enveloped me with the warmth and affection that I craved so much.

In a race against time, I entrusted you with my most intimate self, lest the dream would shatter, and the intoxicating illusion we were in would turn to dust. Completely caught up in this spell you cast me under, I was sucked into a beautiful fairytale, and I succumbed to my most sensual desires.

With my heart wildly racing, and my body tingling with excitement, I let go of reality and gave into the fantasy. The intensity of the moment, so hot, so passionate, overwhelmed me. I could not remember the last time I had wanted something so much. And in the heat of the moment, I could not stop. With words unspoken you made me feel sexy, and desirable. Your lips were sweet and delicious. I craved for your kisses to last an eternity, for I just couldn’t seem to get enough. Wrapping my legs around your waist I drew you to me. Arms wrapped up in one another, fingers laced, hands gripping flesh, teeth biting shoulders. Straining my neck to kiss you as your grip tightened and you pushed your body against mine. I could feel your heart beating quickly, your breath warm on mine. Lost in the sensational moment which seemed to last forever, I was yours, and in that moment you were mine.

Two weeks of blissful indulgence before I landed back in reality. You were no longer there. The thrill for you now gone, forced me in to playing the waiting game. Leaving me restless with unanswered questions: will you call, will you write? Will you still love me tomorrow?

Days have gone by, your silence crushing me, left my soul tortured. Feeling tiny and invisible, emptiness consumed me. You have stripped off not only my clothes, but also the walls protecting my heart. Bleeding, my veins have been cut open for you; my beautifully-broken heart naked, exposed and fragile. And as your memory fades away, I wonder if the pleasure outweighs the pain? If for you it was just lust? And if we’ll ever meet again?

March 16, 2011

My Perfect Ring of Scars

by bye2mrwrong

I’ve been asked many times why I still wear my wedding band. My husband took his off a few months ago. Till this day I wonder if he did it because he met someone else, was told it was inappropriate, or maybe just because he didn’t want to be reminded of me every time he looked down at his finger.

I’ve talked to people who told me they took theirs off as soon as they realized that the marriage was falling apart, that it wasn’t worth anything. Me, I don’t want to take mine off. And if I don’t want to I shouldn’t have to, right?!

First of all, it was an expensive ring, and it’s stunningly beautiful. It took me and my husband months to find the perfect matching rings. We searched for it high and low, in 3 different countries, until we laid eyes on the just the right one.

Second, sometimes when I’m going out and I get hit on by ridiculously drunk, or just horrendously ugly, stupid or just not my type men; I lift my hand up and explain that I’m married. I know, I know it’s a little bit of a white lie since OK officially I am still married, but in reality I’m actually practically divorced. But it gets me out of difficult situation easily without breaking any hearts.

But it’s not the beauty of it, or even its practical use that keeps me wearing it. It’s also not because I’m still partly taken. Definitely not. It’s just that this ring is a reminder of who I used to be, of my life before. Of the man I chose and loved. Of the dreams I hoped for with him. It’s a reminder of the extremely young, innocent and naïve person I used to be, and the broken image of that person that is left now.

I’m not saying I will never take it off. Maybe one day I won’t have the need any more to be reminded. Or maybe I will be OK with moving forward, without looking back. And of-course if another man comes along and replaces this ring with another, then I guess I won’t mind.

But for now it is my perfect ring of scars.