He loved me some days. I’m sure he did.: 99 essays on growth through loss
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From the Publisher
Don’t hold on to things that are over. Let them go, bravely.
This was the year I stopped begging for things to happen, and instead made them happen myself. This was the year I stopped living my life according to someone else’s needs, and instead explored my own.
This was the year I learned to stop begging people to love me. If someone wants to go, let them go. This was the year I learned that every person who shows up in your life is there to teach you a lesson, and they will stay until you have learned what you need to learn. Then they will leave. If you want them to or not, and you must let them. And this was the year I learned that you must dare to leave something or someone completely, leaving that space empty and aching, in order to open up space for something new. And you must know that there is a new lesson and a new person, in a new place with a new life waiting for you.
and this was the year I learned that what’s coming is always better, than what has been.
Don’t hold on to things that are over. Let them go, bravely.
Can I write myself out of love?
Can I write myself out of love? With someone who does not love me back? I surely can write myself into love—I do it all the time. I write myself in love with places and moments, characters and someone’s issues. It’s lovely.
How long until the sadness comes back once I’ve stopped writing? Right away. It comes back right away. Unless I write something magnificent and profound and that feels bigger than the sadness or the love which is the goal, I guess. To write something that takes up more space than the sadness.
The Year I Changed My Own Character
Because when a heart gets broken, it’s wide open.
When a heart gets broken, it’s wide open to take in and give out. To learn and to grow, stronger and wiser, and an open heart is a brave heart because it can feel and hear and see it all. An open heart is a brave heart, because it knows there’s no turning back. Only bravely facing forward, one foot in front of the other, slowly moving on to something better, something new.
