For Breaking My Heart


My heartbreak is grief that comes in waves, gruelling, stealing appetite and sleep alike. It is a shard in my guts that never leaves, though perhaps in time the edges will dull. It feels like death just the same as bereavement and in quiet moments it chokes the breath from my body and short circuits my mind. What was once whole is shattered; where once was peace is emptiness, echoes of a love I put my everything into. With each passing day you take another step away though I asked you to show some sign of caring, affection, of love. All you bring is anger, suspicion and an averted gaze. My only “crime” was to not be able to cope with your rage, with the words you allowed to spill unchecked. I have always done my best for you and, even now, still am. Inadequate as you find me, this is my best, it is all that is left of a once a proud and strong soul – fragments on the floor, scared that the next wind will blow them away.

Since your love turned to poison, my mind cycles through emotions faster than a kid flipping radio channels. I’ve gone from level to rocky – fighting a mixture of competing emotions, each of them vying for dominance. After the reboot of sleep I am calm, the day stretching ahead with possibilities – time to get jobs done, connect with friends, enjoy nature. Yet this coping is a thin veil over trauma and even the smallest of set backs change my emotional landscape. By evening the sadness wells up, uncertainty rushing to the fore, and I know it is time to sleep. How the crazy dreams stitch my head back together I haven’t a clue, it’s a new miracle every night.

Thank you for breaking me; isn’t that a line from Sinead O’Connor? I never understood it before. It used to sound like permission, albeit retroactive, to hurt someone. I get it now. Only a lover can wound so deep, cut to the very core. That level of trauma has to be an inside job. You broke me and watched me bleed. You saw me fail to eat, fail to sleep, and you kept on the pressure with your lies and manipulations, increasing the level of cruelty as you went. After all that, what can there be left underneath but the untouchable part of me, my soul, the girl you can never hurt. I can’t be more raw than that, more exposed, more pure. So thank you, because as Sinead said, “now I have a strong, strong heart, thank you, thank you for breaking my heart.”




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