I was happy when I was single. When you’re single, every day is a new adventure. Every day allows you to do whatever you want without having to consider another person. All of that made me feel like the queen. All of that was appealing once.
I think I was happy being single because I was running away. I loved once. I loved a lot once. And that love was robbed from me by the very person who gave it (#takebacksies). And ever since that day when I felt like my entire world was reduced to a pile of broken rubble and detritus I had put love out of my mind. I figured that was my ‘great love’ and with it gone, there was no other love for me. So I ran away. My soul left my body with a backpack and a notebook, and left, thumb out in the road of life. Eventually it got picked up and I didn’t see it for a long, long time.
That feeling – heartbreak – is what you run from. It’s so painful. It’s like mourning someone close to you. I didn’t want to look at that person anymore and realize the potential that existed between us. So I ran and I ran and I ran until I couldn’t possibly run anymore. I turned around suddenly and realize I wasn’t allowing myself to be heartbroken, but I wasn’t allowing myself to feel anything else, either. I had become someone unrecognizable. I had become someone who didn’t believe in love.
When my soul and body reunited, it was because of someone who stopped me dead in my tracks. He didn’t really do anything to force me to stop. He just did. He just said, in not so many words at all, ‘stop running’ and I stopped. I was scared to stop. Running was all I knew. Running was safe. In running, you move and move and move and movement in this way barricades your heart. And barricading my heart is all I’ve ever wanted to do. The person who suggested I stop running didn’t allow me to barricade my heart anymore. He didn’t allow me to hide from him. He didn’t allow me to be anything except myself. And he hugged me and kissed me for it. He enrobed me in such big, soft, sweet, emotionally-charged hugs I was wrapped up in them to the point where I couldn’t move. And I realized I didn’t want to anymore.
When you stop running, you look around you. You look down at your feet and up at the sky and at the apartment buildings across the street from your window. You feel small and insignificant and also powerful. Because while you really fully realize everything that’s around you so deeply and meaningfully in a way you haven’t before, you also realize you’re home. You’re where you belong. Finally.
I don’t suggest this will be my forever. It might be and it might not be. There aren’t guarantees in love and love. That’s what makes it terrifying to stop running. But I’m so glad I stopped. I’m so, so grateful to be resting right now.