Breaking Up

There are times when the body is too small to hold all the love and grief a human is capable of.

I am spread out on my bedroom floor, shriek-sobbing into the carpet, gasping into the beige fibers, pounding my fist. I am not large enough to contain this sadness. It reaches through me, wide as outer space, pushes past my skin, out into the world beyond, and still, I cannot scream as loud as I need to.

* * *

Today, the woman I love, whom I'd hoped to marry and build a family and a life together with, called me from California, and we took a walk "together." Overhead, the sun shone in a brilliant blue sky. Dragonflies and butterflies fluttered past as I walked along the trail on which I'd talked to my long-distance girlfriend a hundred times before.

On the phone, we caught up and shared some laughs, and then she said she needed to talk to me. In the past when she'd used this phrase, I'd always gotten nervous, wondering if I'd done something wrong or if she had some terrible news. But we'd just enjoyed a 4th of July trip to the east coast to visit my family, and I could see no reason for anxiety.

And then she began talking about a gut feeling she had, an unease. She suggested we weren't "aligned," that we were compatible in a lot of ways but fundamentally incompatible, that we didn't share a vision of the future, that she wasn't sure if she could be with an introvert, that it wasn't anything that I had done. She explained that she'd been having misgivings since our last fight a month or so ago but hadn't said anything because she wasn't sure. I was confused. I told her I wanted to marry her and that I didn't understand where any of this was coming from. I asked her if she was breaking up with me. She said she guessed she was. I told her that I loved her and that it was clear she had made up her mind and that nothing I could say would change that. I told her that I was devastated, that this was the most fucked up thing that had ever happened to me, that this was the worst. I told her I could not to talk to her for a very long time. I told her I loved her, and I said goodbye.

* * *

I am sobbing when I get off the phone, butterflies dancing around my head as I turn my feet towards home. Strangers who don't notice at first say hello. I try to smile through my tears. They quickly look away. I can feel the magnitude of my grief swelling in the bottom of my stomach, rising up to flood my heart. I have to get home. I pick up my pace. It is not enough. I text a friend, and she calls me right away. She walks me home.

* * *

I am on the floor, screaming. I don't care if the neighbors call the police and I am warned or even arrested. I cannot not scream. "Why would you do this?" I am yelling at God. I know it's not his fault, but I don't see the sense in blaming my ex-girlfriend, who is only human and doing the best she can. I yell at God, who didn't stop us from getting together, who did not warn me, who let me fall so deeply in love with someone who was apparently never going to be able to love me into marriage. I yell at God for making the world so hard. I yell at God because my heart is broken.

I text my therapist and tell her what happened. I have therapy in the morning. Divine timing? I can't tell whether God is an asshole or a saint. I tell my therapist that if it's appropriate, I need a really long hug.

I cry until there is puke tickling the back of my throat and I am hoarse from yelling. I cry so hard, my arms tingle and my hands go numb. I cry for three hours straight, decimating a whole box of tissues.

I text my family and a few close confidantes. They remind me that they love me, that everyone is wounded and doing the best they can. They tell me their hearts are breaking for me. They remind me that I am resilient. But I know I am resilient. I don't need God to keep proving that to me. I don't care that I am resilient. I don't see it as a positive. I don't want to be resilient. I want to lose my mind. I want to crumble to dust or become the sound of my screams. For some reason, though, I do not, as I have in the past, feel suicidal. I thank God even as I curse him.

My long-time best friend calls and pours comforting words through the phone. She makes me laugh and reminds me that I am so, so loved, that I will never be left alone with my pain.

* * *

I change my relationship status on Facebook and unfriend my ex. My best friend. I have not only lost the love of my life, I have lost a beloved friend. Because I'm not the type who can sweep all my feelings, attraction, and hopes under the rug of the past. Though I want my ex to be happy, I do not want to hear about her new life, her happiness that has nothing to do with me. I am not that big a person. My tears spill onto my cheeks and wet the carpet.