The truth about getting hurt

I’m doing terrible with these truths! There always seems to be other things that I’d like to talk about. But, since I’ve been sitting here writing and deleting posts for about a half an hour now, I decided it was time for another edition of The Truths. I’m now on day eight and the topic isssss (drumroll….)

Day 08 – Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.

I know that talking about a certain male here would be taking the easy way out . . . but . . . what can I say? I’m kind of lazy today. And, also, it’s the complete and total truth. No one has ever hurt me as badly as The One. No one’s made me cry for a month straight except for him. No one’s treated me with less respect than he has. The day he walked out of my life, I knew deep down in my gut that I would never see him again, but I didn’t think he’d actually end things cold turkey. I thought that, possibly he’d have the decency to explain himself to me. To tell me why he didn’t want to make things work. To wish me well, like I wished for him. To thank me for the countless hours spent driving him around, the dinners my family bought for him, the little gifts I’d give him for no reason.

Instead, I got silence.

I wrote a letter. I said everything that I needed to say. I thought he’d at least have the decency to respond to that.

Crickets.

When you’re young, you tend to think you’re invincible. When you’re a  fairly attractive, well-put together girl, you don’t ever fathom the possibility that you could be dumped. That someone could NOT want to be with you. And then you are, and your world gets completely flipped upside down. You begin to realize that even if you think something is going wonderfully, the other person might feel the exact opposite. You learn not to believe everything you’re told. You wonder if what he’d been whispering in your ear for months was a complete and total lie. You begin to question your looks, your intellect, your faith in love.

And then, somewhere along the way, you start to heal. Your daily thoughts begin to get filled by other things. You no longer replay conversations that you had with him in your head. You’re too busy for that. Maybe you meet someone new and exciting and different. Maybe you decide that you’d rather be single for awhile and play the field. Maybe you dive head-first into a huge project at work or in school. Whatever the case, you move the hell on.

The person treated you like shit, they hurt your pride, they made you cry, but you decide that you have to let them go. Because, someday, you will meet someone who would never want to make you anything but happy.

It took me a whole, entire year to completely get over him. To stop wishing that he’d change his mind and show up at my door. But it happened. I fell for other guys. I got hurt again. But I trudge along, because what else am I supposed to do? You have to take risks in life, or you would never get what you want. It makes me think of the poem “To Risk” by William Arthur Ward.

“To laugh is to risk appearing a fool,
To weep is to risk appearing sentimental.
To reach out to another is to risk involvement,
To expose feelings is to risk exposing your true self.
To place your ideas and dreams before a crowd is to risk their loss.
To love is to risk not being loved in return,
To live is to risk dying,
To hope is to risk despair,
To try is to risk failure.
But risks must be taken because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.
The person who risks nothing, does nothing, has nothing, is nothing.
He may avoid suffering and sorrow,
But he cannot learn, feel, change, grow or live.
Chained by his servitude he is a slave who has forfeited all freedom.
Only a person who risks is free.
The pessimist complains about the wind;
The optimist expects it to change;
And the realist adjusts the sails.”