When the hell did it become so damn easy to let me go?

That’s the plaguing thought I’ve had over the last few weeks. Have you ever been there? It’s not the same as not feeling enough and it’s not asking what is wrong with me because I believe I’m whole on my own and I know who I am and more importantly, I love who I am. I have flaws and I have issues I’m working on but at my core, I’m not insecure with who I am. I don’t question my worth. Despite the number times I have been stood up in the past or the guys who have cheated on me or verbally abused me, I don’t question my worth. So let’s be clear that this isn’t me tearing myself down or throwing myself a pity party. Fuck that.

But damnit.

When did it become so damn fucking easy to let go of me?

It’s more of a burden thing. When someone breaks up with you as if you’re this huge weight to carry. Yet, you were hardly even ever together so how could you have been a burden? And when you were together, it was easy—or so you thought.

I’ve never been one for surprises. They freak me out. I’m always scared my reaction is going to hurt someone—or rather, my reaction isn’t going to meet someone’s expectation. This last breakup, though, that was a freaking surprise. Every relationship I’ve had, there was no abrupt end. I could easily trace the dots and when it ended, it didn’t come so completely unaware. How it ended may have been a different story, but I was always aware of the distance created or the games the guy would begin to play, the lies told, doubts communicated, etc. Even the times when I got stood up, there was nothing there to ever lose. It was just a disrespect of my time and the treatment of being a game to someone.

This time, though, I thought we were climbing the mountain together. And then one day I looked beside me and found I was completely alone on the path.

I have always excelled at being alone without ever feeling lonely. It’s amazing the shift that happens after a breakup I didn’t see coming—suddenly, I feel very much alone and isolated.

I lost a lot of friendships over the years, either through the breakup with the baby daddy, moving around, or simply through growth. When you’re focused on goals and bettering yourself, people will naturally turn away from you in fear of judgment. And then there’s the whole single mom thing—I don’t get much time without the kiddo and I don’t go out of my way to seek out time away from my daughter. Many people have a hard time comprehending this. Every time she goes to my parents for a weekend once or twice a month, I feel like I’ve lost a limb. I have this moment after dropping her off with my parents when I walk back into my apartment without her and lock the door behind me where I look around and I’m just like, “omg, how do I do this? I need her back here.” I need her energy and tiny feet and loud voice filling up this small space. And then that moment of panic evaporates because distance is good and I’m a single mom who needs to get shit done or get caught up on sleep.

This happens to be the first weekend of being kid-free since the breakup—the last two weekends we had spent at funerals or visitations or memorial services. The loneliness has crept in more than ever. I thought I was over it—I used to be so good at flipping the switch on feelings. Where I’d just get disappointed or upset but then be done with the dude. I’m used to being alone (other than the kiddo), I’m used to being single, I’ve become quite accustomed to being happy alone. I’d rather be happy alone than force any relationship, that’s always been my niche. It’s what’s always made moving on so easy for me.

Then again, this time I just had to go and date my boss. A constant reminder. And suddenly that switch isn’t so easy to flip.

And this time, I’ve lost trust in myself. That’s the hardest pill to swallow. When you decide to put complete trust in someone and they simply change their mind, you lose your sense of trust in yourself—you question how you could have gotten it so wrong.

And I put my kid in the mix.

I used to have a rule of not making future plans until months into a relationship. No planning vacations, no hearing promises, no mentioning of living situations or anything that could impact plans long-term. When my kid asked if we could do something with whomever I’m dating, my go to response was always, “We will see,” or “Maybe.” This time, I let myself open up and allowed the conversations and I am bruising my ass from kicking myself for breaking this simple rule. When Evelynn asked if we could take them (the guy I was dating was a father) to the zoo or to the beach come summer, my reflexive response became, “Yes, Evelynn, once it’s warm out we can go to the beach with them.”

Don’t get me wrong, I like to live in the now and hope for a future, but I will not bank on it until we’re past that new relationship honeymoon jazz phase. You know, when the other person starts to drop any façade or false impression and you realize who they really are.

And I broke my fucking rule.

The guy I dated over the summer? His façade dropped 2 months in when my daughter suddenly became such a chore for him to play with or be around. You can imagine how easily that was for me to end and flip the switch.

How can I trust myself when this recent relationship ended exactly how I vocalized my fear of it ending before we began dating? How can I accept someone’s words to have value? I’ve always thought trust and honesty were the cornerstones to any solid relationship. While I can trust myself to be honest, I’m having a very hard time accepting the idea of trusting someone else. I always want to believe the best in people, so when they tell me something the first time, I trust them and I continue to trust them…but if they break it, that is when it falls for me and I have difficulty trusting in the person again. Each new relationship or dating experience I’ve had, I get up and I trust again in the next guy. I give that guy a clean slate. But now, that concept is fading me.

 

Because when

did I become

so damn easy

to let go of?