When someone asks me how I'm doing in the long process of letting my heart heal, my first action is to tell that person about the most recent development in my heart's difficult journey. By doing this, I'm accomplishing many things (not all of them noble, by the way), but by far the clearest thing I accomplish is a freshly angered and unsettled heart.
You know that sort of tight feeling in your chest and those crawling chills that radiate down your arms, up your neck and toward your navel? And that strange feeling you get in your jaw (usually right before you puke)? I'm not sure when these sensations happen for you, but for me they always happen right before an extremely pivotal moment in a relationship or before a really tough conversation. Those kind that have to happen but you stall every second leading up to it and then oh dear Lord help you, it's actually happening and you're in it and the words are starting to come out and you have to concentrate really hard to make sure nothing else comes out with the words?
Are you tracking with me? Because if you aren't then I'm really curious about what your body does to you in moments like that.
Anyway.
When I was recounting the events of last week to some friends my body started to react this way and my heart suddenly began to race and my palms began to sweat. I was getting angry and defensive.
Now, normally, this physical response happens just before an actual conversation or in the middle of a conversation that has just taken a difficult turn. It's almost like an emotional Fight or Flight response manifested physically.
So, what is my mind's response to this? Do I turn these tingly and uncomfortable sensations into a fight? Or do I take flight?
Fight! Fight! Fight! In my head right now I have an imaginary audience shouting that at me while I'm standing there in gigantic boxing gloves, a mouth guard, and really, really big shorts. It's a pretty funny picture.
So, I fight. Most of the time the "fight" has simply been to tackle the problem head on, talk about it endlessly (usually until someone is too physically exhausted to form coherent sentences), and get it resolved then and there. I like to get it out there and over with.
But recently, "fight" has actually meant literal fight. And I've also discovered something about myself.
I do not fight fair.
Actually, I can be pretty mean. Sadly.
And so, by rehashing recent events, the tinglies start, my jaw feels weird, I feel the urge to yell, and I start searching Facebook. And then I find what I'm looking for. And then, thank you Jesus, I don't carry through. I don't yell at him. I don't goad him. I don't manipulate him. I don't even talk to him.
Mostly because I shouldn't because hello to the pain.
But then a lot of my time is wasted. A LOT. And I'm not going to tell you how much because it's rather obscene.
And it's nice to feel sympathy from others. It's nice to have women who know the depths of my struggles. But it's really not nice that the entire thing turns me from a docile and slightly subdued woman into a terrifying harpy.
Me. As a harpy. Not cool.
Therefore, I need to stop recounting the situation for new people. I want people to know. But it's not fair, in the end. It's not fair to me. It's not fair to him. I know in my heart that he doesn't deserve that. Although the harpy in me screams that I need to slander his name, I know better.
'Cause harpies are dumb, y'all. Not to mention fictional.
So. I'm placing the situation in a box. And I'm placing that box in an even bigger box. And then I'm going to mail that box to myself. And then I'm going to SMASH IT WITH A HAMMER!
Sorry, I couldn't help it! My fingers had a mind of their own and just wouldn't stop typing the previous sentence. Bonus points if someone knows what that's from. And if you guess it then you'll reveal just how deep my nerdiness truly runs.
But in all seriousness, time to put it away.
From now on I can just tell people that our breakup was . . . messy.
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