Coming Back Up for Air
(i.e., 2022 was really fucking hard, and 2023 wasn’t much better)
It has taken me such a long time to get here. “Here” representing so many things for me, but we’ll start with finally feeling like me again. To feel happy, to feel peace, to feel something past the hurt and grief that I inevitably feel when something has ended and that, this time around, represents not one, but two relationships ending in the past year (for good), as well as the end of one of the most trying and stressful situations I’ve experienced with the loss of the place I called home—time and time, and time again. Throw in an unexpected job loss and you’ll have a sense of what 2022 and 2023 had in store for me. It’s one thing to go through all of those stressful, hard situations, but it’s also another navigating the incredible empty space left in its wake. Something I have had a lot of since then is time and peace, which I have learned is especially uncomfortable when you realize your normal has been chaos for so long. Both of which I have been learning to lean into, to find ‘me’ again in what I can only say feels like a new chapter. As cliché as that expression is, it feels fitting after so much heartache, loss, and change. And when I say loss, I don’t mean just romantic relationships, but unfortunately friendships as well.
Something I have realized recently in the time and space left for me to process everything is how much of my writing has been focused on the relationships and their endings. I don’t think I’ve ever spent time dwelling on or talking about the grieving, the healing, and, hopefully at some point, the closure that comes after something ends. I think, in so many ways, the reason is because I didn’t know how to. All I knew how to do was feel—all the raw emotions, hoping that at one point it would stop or I would have someone (new) to help me forget the hurt and pain the last person caused me. I think it’s only now, in the absence of chaos and distractions, that I’ve been forced to face it: the grieving of a relationship. And processing all of it—the good, the bad, what you need to take away from it, and what you need to truly, finally, let that person go, for good. I’m grateful for the humans who have showed up for me in this space of life. It’s hard for me to talk about it—any of it, because the last few years have felt…well, it feels like I have been scrubbed raw in so many parts of my life. I have had two big, big loves; both broke my heart, each in their own way, but I think the biggest and hardest part for me was that I could see it. “It” being a life with him. It was the longest and the closest thing to the relationship I have been looking and longing for—and yet, also not what I deserved or needed. In each of the loves I have felt in the past eight years, I cannot regret falling for either of these two men either; but with that said, the hurt that each one inflicted—it’s the kind of pain I wouldn’t wish on anyone. As hard as it is for me to admit here, it’s a pain I feel even more keenly as I identify as a highly sensitive person. It’s not something I have ever felt comfortable sharing before, but as I openly talk about grief, loss, and healing it feels only appropriate to share this. I don’t just ‘bounce back.’ I don’t date or love casually. I never have. I love and feel deeply, and the magnitude of the pain I feel when it ends is commensurate to the love or feelings that I felt for that person. Every loss is a bit different, the pain feels a bit different, but I will say, this most recent loss, it gutted me. There really isn’t much more I can or want to say about the man or the relationship, but I want to at least acknowledge its existence. I want to say this, and then no more:
I got to feel what it is to feel love beyond the beginning stages. I got to feel cared for in a way I never imagined possible in a world full of selfish, and unsafe love. I got to imagine a life spent with this person. And as amazing as all that felt, it was all the more devastating when it came crashing down. Despite all that happened, and all that was said, he burned us to the fucking ground, and as hard as that was, I am at least left with the knowledge, and the undeniable truth, that I deserve so much more. I deserve better. And as hard as it has been, I can now grieve. I can heal. And I can move on. And I am. I have. I’m just doing it alone, and that’s okay.
I think a big reason why I feel I want to write about it—not just the hurt, but also the grieving, the healing, the moving on, is because, 1) I want to acknowledge this space; it’s not just a gap in my writing—hard shit has happened and I haven’t been okay, but also, 2) It’s only now that I can finally write about it because I do (finally) feel like I can. I can’t write about a hard break-up when I’m still “in it.” It’s far too triggering trying to and it can even put me in a dark place mentally just trying to write about it too quickly. Even here, writing these words, it has been fucking hard. Thinking about it has brought these feelings back, and with them tears, but I do truly feel like I have grieved; I have moved on and I have closure, so I feel safe to finally go there now.
Picking these words up again, months later, it all feels exactly as it did when I first wrote them, and yet, also so much farther away, but in a good way. It’s been almost exactly a year since one of these relationships blew up, and while that pain is still there (even now), when I think about him, about us, with each month that has passed, with it has been healing, and I do finally feel good again—like ‘me’ again. While that closure and space hasn’t brought with it a new relationship, it has left me with the knowledge and confidence that I am ready for all that I am wanting. I don’t know the when, or the where, but me—who I am today—is ready for a different kind of relationship, a different kind of love. And I can’t tell you how good that feels. Am I never going to make mistakes again? No. Am I going to easily navigate dating someone new for the first time in a very long time? I honestly don’t know. I’d like to think and hope that I will do so better with each time I attempt to. But I also know that I am going to navigate it as me. I’m going to keep communicating. And with each person, be more honest (clear is kind, unclear is unkind). And continue practicing the hard things for me, namely, asking for what I need. And I already know this version of me is already the best version of me that’s ever been, and I love that. I’m so fucking proud of that.
I suppose it’s safe to say that with it taking me this long to write this—across three separate writing sessions, now—it is a testament to how hard it has been for me to write about this. Initially I didn’t know how to speak to a relationship that, on its head, was complicated and never public knowledge. Then, following me finally finding the words to start talking about it, “Okay, how do I actually end writing about this?” Not that every story has to be prettily wrapped up—to essentially “put a bow on it.” But, to still find a meaningful way to close this. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and how I want to speak to it, but the completely honest truth is that I feel there is an expectation from the people who read this (for lack of a better expression) to hear a “happy ending.” “The girl in our story has her heart broken, time and time again, but she’s finally met someone. She finally has someone who lights her up. Who feels safe. Who when she talks about him, she lights up like the fourth of July.” But the hard truth is that this still hasn’t happened. To steal a quote from a dear friend, every time I have a glimpse of something, every time I have hope, water gets poured all over it. I still think this may be an entirely different post—that I have dated, mostly unsuccessfully, for close to nine years. I repeat, “Nine years.” In this space I have fallen in love, and I have had my heart broken, five times now. Which doesn’t even include all of the other men I dated that I wanted to feel safe to fall for, but never did. So how do I speak to all of this? I will speak my truth. Even when it’s painful and inconvenient. I am still just me. I am still so unbelievably strong, resilient, and to add a new word a new friend recently shared with me, “brave.” And this last word feels fitting as being strong for so long feels so incredibly exhausting. I can’t tell you how long I have craved to have someone to lean on in these hard moments and seasons that life has dealt me. But it hasn’t. Life hasn’t given me that, for some reason that I can’t begin to comprehend right now, because I know all that I am and all that I have to offer. I know how amazing and deserving I am. So I am brave. I am brave every day that I get out of bed and face what life has to throw at me that day. I am brave when I go on that date (again). And I am brave for (somehow) not letting all of the bullshit harden me. For not becoming jaded. For somehow still having this incredibly big, soft heart. But, with all that said, it’s a heart that has zero fucks left to give, who will kick anyone to the curb who disrespects her, her time, or is a shitty fucking communicator, or who doesn’t match my effort, so fucking fast. (And no, I am totally not venting about how shitty the men of Sacramento are right now.) laughs I am proud of the woman I am today. Even if I never imagined, nine years later, that I would still be single, I see all the versions of me that have come into being in these nine years—each one stronger, more secure, more confident, more owning all that she fucking is than ever before—and I am so proud of this woman. Even if, and maybe especially because, she is alone. And while I still hope for and want a partner in my life, I feel very proud of the life I’ve created, just me.
Going back to where this all began, nine years ago—me finding myself again post my ex leaving/my divorce, I wanted to create a life I was excited and proud of. I knew in this rare moment, I have the capacity for real change. And I fully embraced it. For the better. What I couldn’t comprehend then, but what I’ve witnessed is continual growth. An evolution into the best version of me that I could have ever hoped for. With all of that said, I recognize that this doesn’t make finding someone easier—if anything, it’s much harder—because I know myself, I know what I want/deserve, and I abso-fucking-lutely will not accept anyone’s bullshit or shitty behavior any longer. So yeah, the bar is set high. But I also wouldn’t have it any other way. When I think of how best to put this, I think of what we tell our children to aim for in life:
Aim high. Go all in. Shoot for the stars! Because you can do anything, baby. The sky’s the limit!
Cliché? Maybe. But I’m being me. And I’m aiming high. I feel blessed to have gotten to experience and feel each of these loves, as hard as each fall was; I still felt that. And there’s no coming back from that. There’s no replacing true connection. True chemistry. The person you can talk to for hours. Who feels like home when you’re with them. I don’t know why life has been so cruel these past nine years but I have to trust there is a reason. And as I stare down my next birthday, a new decade, I can’t help but believe it’s the beginning of another new chapter for me. Frankly, this particular chapter has been so bad I almost want to call it a new book. Whatever I call it, I sense big changes are in store, and I am actively willing them into being, even if life seems dead set at laughing at my attempts to speed up her timing for my life. Even so, I still believe big and beautiful things are in store. And yes, there is my seemingly never ending optimism to wrap this up. Yes, I do laugh at myself a little for it, but to that I can only say, I have to hold onto hope. Hope that this hasn’t all been in vain. Hope that ‘it’ still exists. Can exist. Just as I exist here, writing these words. So that one day a different kind of story can be written. Until then, I promise to keep being the painfully honest Sabrina you know me to be. And I promise to share more soon. Currently just trying to make it out of what has been an incredibly long, hard, sad season. But with the arrival of Spring, and the promise of a beautiful Summer, I feel that I am coming back into myself. And I will continue to keep showing up. To keep being brave. And to keep trusting: There is so much more in store. And it will get better. Soon.
Until then, sending my love. Always.
Sabrina
XO