The effects of ghosting

When my heart breaks, I find my self wondering, “How wide will it break open until there is nothing left?”  There is this new phenomenon in dating called Ghosting.  It is when someone who is in your life suddenly stops all communication without any warning.  Of course, we become disinterested in others or decide we no longer want to see them, usually, there is an awkward conversation to let the other person know.  That is human nature, yet ghosting is where the person simply vanishes.  Calls aren’t answered.  Texts receive no response.  You simply never hear from them or see them again.  It is as though the Universe magically places someone special in your life and then just as magically, they vanish.

I met someone I truly enjoyed spending time with.  He magically appeared in my life, swept me off my feet and vanished.  The fall from that height hurts like hell.  I was doing just fine with both feet on the ground, why pick me up just to leave me hanging in the wind with only one direction to go; down?  I solemnly confirm that gravity is still in full effect as a law of nature.  These bruises are just on the inside.  Ghosting leaves you to fold in on yourself like a cheap lawn chair and stay there for a while in the dark to catalog all of your real and imagined flaws.  It brings with it every abandonment issue possible for me. It invites the mind to spin out of control with a great desire to “fix it”.  I would damn near do anything to stop feeling so awful.  I am a doer by nature, and in this place, it is important to focus on being and grieving.  A wonderful mentor reminded me that I could not use my “tools” to outrun grief, “You just have to allow yourself to feel it.”  Uggh!  I asked for another solution and received none.  I would much rather run, hike, write, meditate and tap this away.  Yet, I can’t.  So I meet myself in grief with an effort to be loving and patient with myself.

Shit I never wanted to look at again is right in my face. There are no answers and there never will be.  That is how this works.  This kind of disappointment feels so much like the first heartbreak you ever felt when you were 15 years old. It is raw, dark and there is nothing anyone else can do for you to fix it.  There is nothing to do, except pick my self up and move forward.  My goal is to refrain from running, stuffing down or avoiding these feelings while at the same time not allow my self to circle the drain of despair.  Quite honestly, I can’t afford the weight loss that comes with this kind of experience!

Public service announcement:  Do Not ghost someone.  You have no idea what they are going through or where it will send them.  Just have the courage to tell someone you are not interested.  It is okay to end a relationship; we all have if we are over the age of 15.  Silence speaks volumes and sometimes it speaks lies and leaves a soul wondering.  Ending a relationship is not easy, and that is okay.  Leaving someone without any warning or information is simply cruel, heartless and cowardly.  Be brave, and speak the truth with decency.  Remember we are all doing the very best we can trying to heal our own hearts.  This ghosting experience simply hurts at a level that doesn’t make sense to my mind.  This too shall pass and all will be right within; it simply is not at this moment.

Breathing in and out all day long,

Kristin

 

Missing the home with Melanie

I am homesick, but not for the typical things you think of when feeling homesick. This traveling life has some incredible perks that make great social media picture posts, but there is a downside. I have the privilege of exploring new areas all the time. Rarely do I do the same things twice. Sure I work to find my routine spots for coffee, running, yoga, wine, and hiking. That adds a routine or a bit of a known to an unknown place. Home is completely different. I get settled, but I still miss the feeling of home that takes time to create.  Every new location requires reestablishing home over and over again.   After much thought, I realize that feeling is also found within relationships and within your own heart. Yet sometimes I just need a friend who is safe and loving to be by my side and hold my hand in real life!

This week brought with it a new realization; the feeling of home is also found in the relationships of our youth. My very best friend from middle and high school, Melanie, passed away unexpectedly this week. My heart just broke wide open. In the midst of trying to find my current sense of home, one from my past exploded. Melanie was the friend that brought out the best in me as well as exemplifying crazy loving joy, an obsession for new music, a sense of style that is insulated from the opinion of others, and the ability to have fun with the written word. When I was cleaning out my attic before I set sail on this nomadic life I found our old notebooks, letters, and folders. We grew up in the era of note writing, phone calls, sleepovers, hanging out in malls, and mixed tapes.

The way we kept up with events of the day, thoughts and interests were through notebook and folders. To be crafty we would hand off the notebook in between classes and act as though it was homework or studies of some sort. It certainly was a form of studies just not the ones being taught in the classroom. I can’t tell you how many notes from her that are disguised in the form of class work. If you were to walk by her in class you would swear it was the work assigned by the teacher. Rereading those notes and journals brought back so many amazing times. She once sent me a map of a mall from a small town she visited in the summer. It was hilarious as she wrote all of the comments to each store and what it lacked. At that time in our lives before driving we would have lived at the mall if our parents would have allowed us. I am an early bird by nature. When I would sleep over at Melanie’s house she would reluctantly get up with me so we could have breakfast at McDonald’s that required us to walk about a mile. We always had music playing in our boom box along the journey. You could hear us blasting Depeche Mode, Howard Jones, and Yaz. I have listened to our old music all week. Sometimes there are tears and other times there is howling laughter remembering our shenanigans.

Life changed after we started driving. We would drive all over town looking for the “party” that never existed. I bet we put 100,000 miles on our cars during those 3 years of high school driving. We had multi-tasking down to an art in the car. Drive, eat, smoke, play music and change the tape all at one time while the passenger was doing the same thing and telling a story of the day. We would pick each other up for school 45 minutes early so we could just be together, smoke and listen to music. In so many ways Melanie was home to me. We shared a time in our lives that shaped part of who we are today. Not having her on the planet anymore hurts in a surprising way.

Our lives were conjoined for 7 years. There was not a day that did not go by that we did not speak in some way. Adult life happened and we drifted apart due to not living near one another. I got busy being an adult with marriage and motherhood. She waited about 15 years to start that part of adult life. Her beautiful children were born as my daughter was spreading her wings in adult life. We were simply flip-flopped from college on. We met up again about 3 years ago. We picked up exactly where we left off. The only difference was we longer smoked; we could legally drink and had money to afford good wine. We drove around our old party searching route, spoke of our old and new lives while enjoying each other’s company. From that point forward we would share new music, text encouraging words and share great laughs. Selfishly I am sad that I can no longer call up Melanie when I need a dose of home. I was gifted with her daily presence in my life as a teenager, and am forever grateful to have had Melanie in my life in the way that I did. My heart goes out to her beautiful children and husband who lost her, for I can not imagine that devastation on a day to day basis.

Missing the feeling of HOME,

Kristin