The Breakup . . .

{Me circa 1991, rocking big hair and pink lipstick like nobody’s business, shortly after The Breakup.}

Back in high school I had a boyfriend for a couple of years.  He was awesome, made me delicious cookies and took me on really fun dates. Our relationship was sweet, innocent, and dare I say it without receiving scorn – pure.  At a time in my life when all my other friends were choosing very differently than me, he and I were the same in our choices and so he was a whole lot of my everything.

As graduation neared, we were both accepted to the same university.  I was thrilled to know  I’d be entering the college scene with my best friend, whom I happened to enjoy kissing. There was a caveat though.  He had been accepted to the summer term while I would not be starting until the traditional fall semester.

So we parted ways one early summer night when I was drugged up on painkillers after just having my wisdom teeth pulled. It may possibly have been one of the world’s least romantic goodbyes ever, but that didn’t matter, because I knew we’d be together again in just two short months.

Fast forward two months.  We were joyfully reunited as he picked me up at the airport in Utah, took me to buy my textbooks and helped me get my first checking account set up.  Sweet boyfriend, what would I have done without you?

That night he joined me at my Aunt & Uncle’s home for dinner.  After dinner he suggested a walk.  Eager for a good hand hold, I quickly said yes.  We walked up the hill to Alta High School.  There on the lawn in front of the parking lot he broke my heart and told me that our relationship was over.

I can still remember the feelings I had at that moment in time almost twenty years ago.  The sinking feeling in my stomach.  The way the world seemed to shift ever so slightly off its axis.  How hard it was to focus on his face because the tears would not stop welling up in my eyes. The dull throb in my forehead and ringing in my ears.  To say I was devastated would be an understatement.  To say I was confused would be spot on.

The next few weeks were a bit surreal.  Combining my first weeks of college with a split from my first real love was not ideal.  I don’t remember much about it besides many phone calls home to my mom, a lot of crying, and an emptiness that ached to be filled but instead remained as a constant reminder to me of what I’d lost.

There was one night in particular that just about pushed me over the edge.  It was two weeks into the fall semester.  Some girls from my dorm had convinced me to go up on campus with them to see some bands that were playing at the student center.  I agreed to go because I had to get out of my dorm and out of my funk before I went out of my mind.

There we were, with about 5,000 other crazy college students, dancing, singing, yelling over the noise  just to be heard.  And then I spotted him.  He was all the way across the  room laughing at something a cute brunette had just whispered in his ear. I stood there, frozen, jaw slack, watching my pain play out in front of me.We couldn’t have been closer than 200 feet, but somehow he knew someone was looking at him and turned to meet my gaze.  Our eyes only locked for about three seconds before he looked down guiltily and I turned and ran out of the student center, tears already spilling down my cheeks.

The thought that his life had completely gone on while mine seemed to have stopped with our breakup made my heart ache in a way I’d never known before. And that look on his face when he saw me in my shocked state was torturous. It was a combination of pity, guilt and wonderment and it was humiliating.  That look definitely marked a turning point for me.  After a good long cry that night, I decided I had to start dating again to get over the heartache.  So I did, and after a significant period of time, I felt like a much stronger person and even found myself feeling grateful for the experience in my life.

That breakup was {and still is} one of a small handful of my most painful emotional memories. So painful that I’ve never written about it until now.

The feeling of rejection that comes with a breakup is universally difficult and altogether humbling.  Realizing that someone you once shared a special relationship with has now moved on is never easy. It boils down to rejection, plain and simple, and it has a way of hurting to the very core. We feel it as small children on the playground at recess. We feel it as teens in peer groups or dating relationships.  We feel it as adults in employment experiences or changing friendships.

Recently I have felt a fraction of the pain I endured as a new college student in relation to an entirely different situation I’m going through.  There are incidents that have taken me back to those weeks {and months} in college when I was trying so hard to regain my self esteem and find my footing again in my little universe. I have found myself reflecting on the lessons I learned almost twenty years ago to help me navigate through the current ups and downs I am facing.

I’m sure you’re wondering by now what the point of this ultra-long walk down my memory’s lane might be.  I can’t answer exactly – maybe it’s to let someone who’s feeling dejected know they’re not alone.  Maybe it’s to say that hard times can and do get better.  Maybe it’s to remind myself that I have the tools and knowledge I need to help myself get through what I’m struggling with.  Maybe it’s just a chance to write down a memory for permanent keeping. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s my own little version of fantastic free therapy – a way to vent and work through complex emotions.

Don’t worry dear readers.  All is well. And tomorrow I’ll  get off my serious kick and post something really happy – like a picture of my darling Ollie who is eleven months old today! Until then, go check out yesterday’s post to win June’s giveaway.  I’ve loved reading about your patriotic traditions!