I Was Dumped Last Night

Well— not dumped dumped. We weren’t officially dating. But we had been seeing each other for a couple months. A friendship that blossomed with the slow defrost of winter into spring.

The all-too-familiar “we need to talk.”

“Talk talk or chit chat talk?”

“Talk talk. I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

And suddenly I’m back to 22, back to 18, back to 16. Head spinning, caught off guard. Knowing what was to come.

Except this time I don’t fight the feeling, I sit with it. Accept it. Open the door for it and ask to take its coat. I hang the coat on the chair beside us, knowing the coat doesn’t want to be in the closet. The coat and the shoes don’t want to be surrounded by my coats and shoes. They sit stiff outside the closet they have handprints inside. Would it want to be hung up if I turned it inside out?

And in a familiar dance, an uncomfortable conversation commences. 

They weren’t over their ex. 

The greatest gift I can give is understanding. And so— just as I always do— I understand.

And I do. My understanding is crafted in truth. Kindness and Understanding rooted in my own lived experience.

I’m proud of them for acknowledging this within themselves and expressing it, hard as it may be. It’s a difficult truth to accept, and an even more difficult truth to express to someone else. (I mean shit, gun to my head saying that to someone…pull the trigger LOL).

I’m not mad and I have nothing but appreciation directed at them.

And in true Alli fashion I was cracking jokes left and right. Appropriately, of course, but believe me when I say left and right. They left feeling lighter and I was happy to have been able to foster an open environment.

But feelings…

I feel grateful to be respected enough to be given honesty and directness. 

I feel joy in knowing I have good memories and this was a civil, open, raw conversation. After all, I said I wanted to have difficult conversations months ago and I got my wish.

I feel proud in how we both handled it.

I feel sadness in losing such a good human connection.

I feel sadness in being here again.

I feel relief that the sadness is not as profound and deep as it could have been or has been before.

I feel like I drive people away. 

I feel like this is a cycle I am destined to repeat over and over again. 

Stuck laying in silence next to someone, staring at the ceiling after facing the end, unable to peel myself from the surface below me because the second they walk out the door that makes the entire thing real.

I close my eyes and I’m back to 22, back to 18, back to 16. 

Why does writing pour from me only in moments of intense feeling? Sometimes I get glimpses of fear that I’ll only be good at writing so long as I feel profoundly sad. I think this is a creative’s thought-process forged by patterns. Pavlov or whatever. The suffering artist, blah blah blah. To feel loudly requires writing, and loud feelings tend to flow at a rate much faster and more beautiful than normal ones.

Why does this always happen to me? Sometimes I feel it’s my destiny to be in a pattern of catch and release, I the fish, Other the fisherman. Reeled in for enjoyment, or by prize, or by nothing other than coincidence. But released nonetheless. And I always grab the worm. I’ll never not grab the worm.

I remind myself your knees get scuffed when you learn how to ride a bike. I’ve tried padding. I’ve tried training wheels. I’ve put the bike in the basement for years until the gears got rusty and I had to replace the dry-rotted tires. I know I’ll hop on and ride pain-free eventually.

Isn’t it funny we as humans do this over and over despite the shittiness? And it never gets not shitty. Just shit after shit. Shit on the queue. What song is next after Shit? Oh yeah, Shit. It’s worth it but damn.

The silver lining is I’m not broken. This proved to myself I am capable of opening back up. I’m not touch averse forever, nor am I cold and feelingless, after all. I can and will meet someone and open up in the process. It was surprising, really. Caught me off guard. I think it caught both of us off guard. 

But I’m not incapable of love! Yay!

But back to square one…booo.

That said, I am at peace with it. It went as well as it could have gone. “Shit happens,” as I so gracefully said to them last night. We can’t control how we feel and I’m the last person to judge the bubbling cauldron of emotions.

This morning I woke up and had a meeting with my manager. They want to promote me. An entire team led by me, a 24-year-old who can’t even touch doorknobs. Obviously I accepted…duh! It’s funny because I was feeling off my game the past two weeks. I felt less sharp, less able to run through the tabs in my brain. But I guess that goes to show that our perceptions of ourselves aren’t always reality. What I think is the end of the world and displaying mass, unforgivable incompetence could just be someone else’s normal. She said they see “amazing potential” in my leadership capabilities and HER boss (boss’ boss omg) has been mentioning me by name saying I “have a lot going for me at such a young age.”

Thank you, Universe.

When one door closes, another one opens.

It sucks but new opportunity awaits on various fronts. I’ll continue to prioritize foundational friendships and, now, will start preparing for my new leadership role.

Besides, it’s beautiful outside today and how can I possibly be anything but happy with the sun so bright and a prime patio spot at a coffee shop? Impossible.

Fingers crossed for next time, am I right? LOL.

You’re so loved.

Xoxo,

Alli