I’m Not The Same Girl You Loved Anymore

Nothing terrifies me more than getting close to someone and then watching them become a stranger. Or falling in love with someone one day and watching them decide to leave the next. Everyone’s heard the famous “I’ll never do that to you” saying when you finally have the dreaded “ex talk” with your newfound lover. And most of them keep their promises, at least for a little while. But the truth is they all end up doing exactly what they said they wouldn’t do. They all end up leaving you more hurt and broken than the last person that walked out of your life.

I’ve always been the kind of person who is soft spoken and would wear her heart on her sleeve. The kind of girl who would demand to be treated a certain way but never followed through. I have always been a “yes” type of girl. You want me to come over? Okay. You want to go to your family events instead? You got it. You want the last piece of pizza? Of course, go ahead.

You were everything to me… until you weren’t. You were my words when I had none, you were my compassion when it was gone, you were there with answers when it seemed like there was none, and you were the person who would nurture every dream I had. You were everything that I hoped God would bring me, and then it changed — you changed. Nothing was good enough anymore. I didn’t come over enough, we didn’t talk enough, I didn’t have finalized career plans. Red flags were popping up everywhere and I ignored every single one of them. But I tried — I tried harder, I fought harder, and then you left.

You left in a haze. You were there one minute, and then completely gone the next. When you left, there were no promises of future friendships, no midnight drunken texts, and no stupid sappy heartbroken updates on your social media. You were just gone. Days would go by with no word from you, and then they would slip into months.

At first it was hard to not think about you. I would have to constantly be busy with something. I would have to call someone close just to have them talk through it with me one last time. But with time it got easier. After a few months, I found myself laughing at things that would have made me cry, adventuring out to different places alone, and yes, accepting dates from perfectly toned bachelors. Everything was fine; I was fine.

My heart was almost done being hastily glued back together until that phone call. After five months with no communication, no hint of you even living, you call. I still remember it like it was yesterday. It was 1:30 a.m. My phone flashed, and a name that I tried so hard to erase from my memory came across the screen, and I lay frozen. Three rings went by, and at that point I was frantically trying to decipher my next move. With only one thought in mind (and that was to hear your voice again), I answered the phone. No one talked for the first minute, but I swallowed what was left of my self-dignity and spoke. That’s when you started talking — and by talking, I mean rambling — for a good two minutes. Your voice was like heaven though; it was everything I had remembered the definition of comfort meaning, and I didn’t want it to stop.

Long story short, nothing ever came from that phone call. To this day, we still don’t talk, but it’s not because there are feelings of hate and resentment between us. It’s because we simply don’t know how to anymore. You and I separated that day with neither of us knowing the mess that would need picking up or the effect it would have on me. But I can promise you this: I’m not the same girl anymore. I’m not the easy-trusting, easy-loving, wear-her-heart-on-her-sleeve girl anymore. You taught me things. There is a prayer that I say repeatedly every night before I go to sleep, and it’s called the Serenity Prayer. For those of you that do not know of it, it goes like this:

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

I had hoped that one day God would hand me a situation in life that would teach me life lessons in ways that would resonate my entire being, and it just so happens you were that lesson.You taught me to accept the things that I cannot change, and to change the things I can. But most importantly, you taught me the wisdom to know the difference.