The other night at work, I was sitting in the dining area for the evening and they had Pandora tuned to a Country channel. Normally, I wouldn’t mind, but all the songs there were playing were songs that my ex-boyfriend loved and/or sent to me as little love notes every so often. I wanted to cry for my entire shift. As previously mentioned in this blog, we didn’t end on good terms. Hell, we didn’t even end on okay-ish terms. Whenever someone asks me how my last relationship ended, I reply with “it exploded”. That doesn’t mean I don’t wish him well, or that I hate him. I was texting a few good friends of mine that night, trying to cheer up and the following exchange occurred:
Me:”I’m going to get all emo for a hot minute. Work is playing country music tonight, the kind that Nick loved. It’s been 9 months and it still hurts my heart to think of him. That goes away eventually, right?”
She:”Missing someone will always be there, but the pain will dull and the frequency will lessen over time. It’s much more cathartic to acknowledge the broken heartedness than it is to pretend it’s not there. Have your moment of memory and hurt, give your heart a little hug, gently remind yourself why you are where you are right now, then hike up your britches and march on with your life.”
What amazing advice! I could not have asked God to surround me with better friends. Is there a man in Montana who still holds my heart? Yes. Does he deserve to still hold it? No, but that’s where it is right now and all I can do is reclaim a little bit of it every day.
I thought long and hard about what the best way to move on; how to live my life to the fullest without being hung up on the past. So I attempted to make a list of all the things Nick didn’t like about me or behaviors he didn’t enjoy. It was a short list, comprised of “hanging out with guy friends while he was at work in North Dakota”, “nagging him about his alcoholism” and “cutting my hair any shorter than my shoulders”. I picked the only one on the list I had any control over anymore and started looking at short hair cuts. I’ve been wanting a pixie cut for almost 2 years now and it’s about time I went for it. I didn’t dare do it for the entirety I was dating Nick because he flat out told me “if you cut your hair short, I’ll by you a wig on the way home”. I’ve avoided cutting off my luscious locks since then because I’m a big fat chicken. I’ve made excuses, like “my face is too fat for that kind of cut” or “what if I look like a lesbian??”. In the past week, I’ve decided something really important: WHO THE HELL CARES! I can always lose weight. I know I’m not a lesbian. And who gives a shit if other people think I am? A few women have given me their numbers/hit on me while I’ve had long hair (which I find super flattering, by the way), so it’s not like my hair has anything to do with being thought of as an attractive woman. I will admit, part of not wanting to cut it all off was founded in the fear that men will think I’m gay and therefore won’t be interested in flirting/dating/making out like teenagers/etc. It’s not like they’re knocking down my door as is, so I went for it!
Out of this physical transformation sprang an emotional and psychological one that I am naming: “Today, I do something DARING”. My best friend and I are traveling this path together, doing at least one daring thing a week for the next year. We are pushing ourselves, and each other, out of our comfort zones and encouraging each other to live life to the fullest.