A Letter to the Woman Who Broke My Boyfriend's Heart

I don't know much about you. What I do know has been told in fragmented pieces, broken up because sometimes the past is painful for quite some time. What I know about you, I know from looking at the man I love: that at some point, you did great damage to someone who cared. I'm sure you have your side of the story, there are always two.

Here's what I'm not thankful for: I'm not thankful that you delivered him to me more broken than you found him. Hearts are fragile things. I wish you would have been more careful with his. I'm not thankful that sometimes, despite all the good in our relationship, the past still haunts us both. That is the reality of life. It is something we will work on together, every single day. I wish you wouldn't have made it such a struggle sometimes.

I got that out of the way because mostly, I'm writing this to tell you just the opposite. I wanted to tell you thank you. Thank you for shutting one door so he could walk through the door that would eventually bring him home. Thank you for loving him and caring for him to the best of your abilities before I was able. Thank you for anything and everything you taught him, about life and about himself, and any way that you made him grow. Thank you for preparing him for me.

Because from you, he learned what he wants and doesn't want in a partner. And I am so thankful he chose me. I will never stop being thankful. And in turn, he teaches me so much. He's taught me what love truly is. He taught me how to trust. Every day he teaches me I am lovable and worthwhile. I only hope I make him feel half what he inspires within me. So thank you. Thank you for proving that sometimes from the darkest of nights, come the brightest of days. Thank you for giving me the chance to prove to him that some people are worth trusting. Thank you for leading him home.

Mein Kampf

How odd, that the first title to come to mind for this post would be the same phrase the infamous Adolf Hitler used to title his manifesto. But mein kampf (that is, my struggle) is what weighs heavily on my heart today.

It's easy to talk about your struggles when you've overcome them. When you've fought your way to the top of that mountain, and you're looking down at how far you've come... That is when it is comfortable for you to talk about the valleys of your journey. But I think it's also important (and so much more honest) to talk about those lows while you are IN them. There are so many stigmas around mental health issues, and I believe a big part of that is due to the fact that no one prefers to talk about it, particularly while they are in it.

 So that is why I write today. To tell you I'm not okay. To tell you it is still a battle I fight every day. To tell you that lately, sometimes, I feel like it's a battle I'm losing. But I will never stop fighting. I know this changes the way some people see me. That's fine. Call me crazy, psycho, suicidal. You won't be the first and I doubt you'll be the last. I don't write this for you. I write this for myself and I mostly write it for those who are going through the same thing, who are all day every day at war with themselves and their own mind. 

Right now, my struggle is somewhat situational. But that doesn't make it any less scary or any less real. The fact of the matter is most people ("normal" people, if you will), can go through a break-up, or the loss of a friend, or a rejection, or a death of a family member or whatever and not feel the despair I sometimes feel. Part of my struggle is feeling everything so very deeply. Another is overthinking absolutely everything. Add on top of that my lifelong struggle with depression, and it quickly becomes a very scary place in my mind. 

I'm not just fighting for myself anymore though. I have a beautiful, perfect, absolutely amazing 4-year-old son who needs his mother. And that's what everyone always tells me. It is a good reminder but still... It doesn't fix the utter fear and hopelessness I feel at times. It makes me hold on tighter. It makes me fight harder. But it doesn't take away the feeling that I am hanging off the edge of a cliff, and minute by minute, day by day... My fingers are slipping. That is what depression is. Hanging over a void, most of the time fighting to hold on, but being afraid that someday, you'll slip. Someday, you might not have the energy to hold on anymore. At least that's what it is for me.

I know a lot of people won't understand it. I can't count the number of times people have told me to just get up. Get out of bed. Get dressed. Go be around people. Put a smile on your face. You'll feel better. What people fail to realize is just because you're smiling doesn't mean you aren't still falling apart inside. And just because you're surrounded by people doesn't mean you don't feel totally alone. But still I do it. And most the time, it's enough to fool everyone else and myself for a while. But today I'm trying something different.

I'm trying to be honest about just how not okay I am lately. And I want to do that because I want other people to know it's okay to be honest about your struggle. Too often we suffer alone when we don't have to. There are a few close to me who know the extent of my battle lately. They are the ones I lean on and go to when it gets so bad I have to have someone there. To the rest of you, this might come as a shock. Yes, your bartender who jokes around with you all day, your friend who gives you advice, your sister who tries to help you in any way she can... She is fighting a battle few know about.

Be kind to each other please. So many of us are fighting silent battles. I choose to not be silent about mine anymore. And with that acknowledgment comes power, I think. Because I no longer have to suffer in silence. You don't have to, either.