Rejection. It's a word we all know. It's a word and a feeling I despise. It's also the reason for this post. I have been thoroughly conflicted about, well, life this year. I had the most prolific epiphany the other day. I've been a heartbroken beautiful mess this year. I did not know how to truly function. Or how to work my way through it. The heartbreak was horrific to me. But, there was another aspect I had not acknowledged until now. It was the rejection that made it sting. I had to sit down and write out the names of every boyfriend I ever had to figure it out. No boy/man had broken up with me since I was 14. I am 33 now. That is literally my entire dating life. I have always been the one who ended things and walked away. It has been my modus operandi, my defense mechanism. I did not want to give any guy the chance to truly hurt me so I left before they could or I caught feelings. No problem, right? Wrong.
That way of living set me up for a great fall. I wasn't prepared for the rejection. It hit me so hard and knocked me on my behind. I know that he may not see it that way but it read as the ultimate rejection. Being rejected by someone you love is awful. I cannot even fully explain it in words. It's just a feeling I don't ever want to feel again. Ever. I can take rejection in other areas in life. I'm strong enough to handle it. But, in love, I cannot. I get it. It's not something I'm used to nor should I be. It is just a part of life that I'd gladly give up. Papi, no mas! Do. Not. Want. It's kind of terrifying the things you learn about yourself in the middle of the night when insomnia strikes and Ambien doesn't help.