Although I've been on approximately 9,552,000 dates and have had approximately 3,723,000 flings in my lifetime, I’ve only been in two relationships that have lasted longer than four months. The problem (besides the severely skewed ratio of dates to actual boyfriends) is that the ex-boyfriends from the aforementioned two relationships continue to haunt me to this day. My mind regularly scrutinizes what went wrong and what went right in those long deceased unions. Not just that, but I’m also guilty of staying in touch with these guys far too long after the last tear has been shed. While I’m thankful for the lessons I learned from each relationship, why do I have so much trouble ultimately letting go?
I’m currently reading Committed by Elizabeth Gilbert. There is a section in her book about being haunted by exes. I found myself relating to this subject even though I've never been married (obvi). Her words reassure me that I’m not the only one who has dealt with this issue. Turns out, a gazillion divorcees deal with this same dilemma. For example, in one passage she writes:
“Part of what makes divorce so dreadful is the emotional ambivalence. It can be difficult, if not impossible, for many divorced people to ever rest in a state of pure grief, pure anger, or pure relief when it comes to feelings of one’s ex-spouse. Instead, the emotions often remain mixed up together in an uncomfortably raw stew of contradictions for many years. This is how we end up missing our ex-husband at the same time of resenting him. This is how we end up worrying about our ex-wife even as we feel absolute murderous rage toward her. It’s confusing beyond measure."
Additionally, I realize that part of the reason I have trouble letting go is my empathetic nature. I'll argue to the death that I'm a strong-willed person, but sometimes my compassion for people -deserving and undeserving- can really get the best of my emotions. In the case of boyfriends past, it's like I just want to be reassured that the person I once loved and still care about is going to be "OK," and the only way I can make sure this happens is to stay in touch. Gilbert's book, along with countless articles I've been reading, have been helping me through this though, and I'm slowly learning to accept that I'm not responsible for an ex-boyfriend's emotional well being. In fact, staying in touch does more harm than good to each individual because it severely stalls the "moving on" process.
As I write this I 'm reminded of the movie Wendy and Lucy. Michelle Williams plays a poor girl, Wendy, perpetually struggling to feed herself and her dog, Lucy. Lucy eventually gets lost during a cross country move, and when Wendy finally finds her, she discovers that Lucy has been taken in by a caring owner with a house and a big back yard. Lucy gets excited when she notices Wendy, but Wendy ultimately decides that the dog is in better hands and decides to leave her beloved companion in the big back yard, despite the dog's heart-wrenching whines. My point here is that Wendy chose the most difficult option because she loved the dog, and she knew that neither one of them benefited from being together.
As difficult as it may be, it's time that I, too, leave the dog in the big back yard.
Additionally, I realize that part of the reason I have trouble letting go is my empathetic nature. I'll argue to the death that I'm a strong-willed person, but sometimes my compassion for people -deserving and undeserving- can really get the best of my emotions. In the case of boyfriends past, it's like I just want to be reassured that the person I once loved and still care about is going to be "OK," and the only way I can make sure this happens is to stay in touch. Gilbert's book, along with countless articles I've been reading, have been helping me through this though, and I'm slowly learning to accept that I'm not responsible for an ex-boyfriend's emotional well being. In fact, staying in touch does more harm than good to each individual because it severely stalls the "moving on" process.
As I write this I 'm reminded of the movie Wendy and Lucy. Michelle Williams plays a poor girl, Wendy, perpetually struggling to feed herself and her dog, Lucy. Lucy eventually gets lost during a cross country move, and when Wendy finally finds her, she discovers that Lucy has been taken in by a caring owner with a house and a big back yard. Lucy gets excited when she notices Wendy, but Wendy ultimately decides that the dog is in better hands and decides to leave her beloved companion in the big back yard, despite the dog's heart-wrenching whines. My point here is that Wendy chose the most difficult option because she loved the dog, and she knew that neither one of them benefited from being together.
As difficult as it may be, it's time that I, too, leave the dog in the big back yard.
Finally, everyone always says that the scariest thing about falling in love is letting yourself become vulnerable enough to experience true intimacy. But to me, the scariest thing about love is having to let go of someone and bury that once treasured intimacy, ultimately letting it rest in peace.
