Heart-shaped box

10/31/2011

At the angry part of grief. In the middle of a radical reimagining of a relationship that I think will look something like “let’s stay friends! …and uh, break up.” Maybe when the grief is not so fresh, playing together occasionally, but with less emotional commitment. Let’s give it plenty of space before that.

I should have seen this coming. For a while now, I think. Maybe the whole while?

What I was most surprised by was hurting so badly after the news crossed the line to understanding, acceptance beyond the bargaining. You know when grief becomes physical, and the heart beats arhythmically and hands shake? Oh yes, that.

Maybe it is not so much this relationship that I am grieving, as all the relationships that I have ‘radically reimagined’ in the last few years. My heart is sore and worn, not fading around the edges but a little frayed from stretching and contracting as it do. From a less than optimistic place, I can tell you: being polyamorous gives you not just more opportunity for love, but for heartache, too. (sounds so melodramatic, but fuck-all, it’s true!)

But at least all this experience is useful for something. I know how to get myself thru this, seeing as how I’m at least a level 6 at that great skill, surviving heartache and getting the fuck on with my life. It takes time, putting energy into other things, but also giving myself space in which to grieve.

I’ve put up my tent. Here, self, you can grieve, in this notebook or that cluttered room. Listen to melancholy love songs until your eyes bleed if you want, it’s fine. The best strategy I’ve found is working on easy tasks that upon completion will make me feel accomplished. Working on bikes, cooking, painting. Lavishing that most precious resource, time, upon my introversion.

Tomorrow is a new day, and with it brings the dawn.

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