Healing Diaries no.07 | relapse.

I know I said I was done talking about the break up, but I also said I was done with the relationship when I wasn't, so here we are. 

There's a threat to write with raw emotion for this, publish as is - on a Saturday and not schedule it to post tomorrow - and indulge for a moment in the emotional rollercoaster of it all, so forgive me if I'm all over the place. Or don't forgive me, it's ultimately up to the reader anyway. An apology, nonetheless.

I'm starting to think that what the healing journey is: an emotional rollercoaster. With all the shadow work, battles with inner demons, traumas of the past coming to the surface, all dancing with self-love, and awareness and all the other beautiful things that one could experience in the process. 

Like a recovering drug addict, I relapsed, I'll admit that. All the warnings, all the damage, all the hurt, along with all the progress I'd made, thrown out the window to fulfill that itch, that longing for a toxic thing I convinced myself I couldn't live without. I even begged for it, opening my arms and heart wide open to let it back into my life, allowing my feelings...him...to take control once again. Dignity abandoned. I needed it. Addicted. And though there was a moment of pure euphoria, comfort, familiarity, eventually, it all came crashing down. The high was temporary. While I was on a cloud, I tricked my mind into believing it could be like this forever. Going back to something so toxic, only backfired, as any drug rightfully would, the side effects unchanging. I hate comparing it to that, because the love is unwavering, but that's how it feels in the moment. 

I am realizing that a part of love - in it's purest form - is knowing how and when to let go. 

Journal entry | 09.03.2022: 

The morning after. 

Everything was going so well, so smoothly; peaceful, quiet, copacetic. For a small window of time, I was hopefully believing we had gotten back to a good place and really were starting over with a clean slate and moving into something even better. The heart can be so deceitful sometimes, can't it? Before I could stop it from happening, we were back in the trap of insanity, repeating toxic cycles, back to the chaos. I don't know who's to blame, honestly, but I should've known better. Ignoring all the signs and confirmation that letting go was the best decision for me. Going against what I know to be true, all because I wanted to see things differently, not because things were different.

It's so "on brand" for me to have to learn things the hard way, then the harder way to follow up. 

"Choose him or choose yourself, but you can't have both." (something my best friend said recently, in her tell it like it is way, and I kept thinking about it, even when I attempted to decode the message) 

I gotta reprogram my mind to believe I deserve better, to go even harder for my goals and focus all my energy into becoming the woman I'm supposed to be. Success is the best revenge, but not being successful solely for the sake of revenge. 

I wish it were easy for me to walk away without feeling anything - not even a little bit - without lingering thoughts of him or what I wish went differently. It is and it's not. I guess this time, I have to remind myself of the bad stuff and trust that there are better, brighter, happier days ahead. Yet, even knowing that, a part of it feels unfinished, like a cliffhanger of an epic novel with no promise or indication of a sequel. 

A not so eloquent glimpse into what that final fight was like, into many fights that didn't feel so final. I cringed at how much this resonated:

Not saying that toxic love has never been my style or genre of choice, but that it's worth it to choose (chase and attract) differently, maybe even defiantly against what I've learned, over time, to crave. I've lost and discovered so many vital and unnecessary pieces of myself. It was a phenomenal book woven together so intricately with so many unexpected plot twist and turns that I enjoyed until I didn't, laughed and cried through, finally ending with a heartbreaking climax, a simultaneous relief and a sadness that it ends there. I suppose, it could've had an easier, less complex, more amicable conclusion, but it didn't; perhaps, that's the beauty of it. A collective memoir that we wrote together, different POV's, without comparing notes along the way; only a final production. A raw, true, unedited story. A masterpiece. A lapse in time. Thankful that I was both in and a part of it. 

Another book completed. I just have to allow myself time to grieve an ending, not a loss. A reminder that there will be other books...that I will also read, love, and somehow be a part of. A realization that our individual stories no longer intertwine. 

-Signing off- 

Chymere A. ♡