An ESME Sister submission
After two years of an on-again, off-again relationship, I realized that I was caught in a cycle of intermittent reinforcement with the man that I loved. This giving and withholding of love is common among psychopaths and narcissists. The periods of loving attention are so intense and gratifying, and the periods of withholding the love are brutally sad and lonely. After the last round of this viciousness, I had, once and for all, decided that I had had enough. Once my mind and my heart were in alignment, I wrote this painful goodbye letter to my ex. I e-mailed it. I texted it. I made sure he saw it and that he knew my heart was no longer his for the taking. I never heard from him again after sending this letter.
My heart is broken, and I want you to leave it that way. Walk away. Keep walking. The damage you have done is deep but it is reparable, but for that healing to occur, I need you to keep walking. Walk wherever you may go. It is no longer my business, my care, or my concern. Walk on, old friend. If I never hear from you again, it will be too soon. At least that’s how it feels right now.
I have a heart that is temporarily broken, but I know that it will not stay that way forever. However, for now, I sit in the crevice between the two broken pieces, and I start crying. I cry until that is no longer acceptable to me. Then, I grab my bottle of wine and I drink. I drink until I’m drunk enough to call my hot ex who is readily available for a late-night booty call and we f*ck. We f*ck until I have climaxed because that is why I invite the same gentleman into my bed each time. I need to climax to forget. It works for a day or two, then it is no longer acceptable to me. Then I read. I read a book titled Love Hurts by Lodro Rinzler. I read until I am bored and have gotten all that I can from a heartbreak handbook. I take a sewing needle into my little hands, and I thread it. I then begin to stitch together the pieces of my broken heart.
I go to bed and wake to a text message from you. I stitch more and more, and I think of how we may rekindle all that we had. I stitch until I realize you are just reminding me that you are there so that I do not move on. Then all my stitching unravels. I forgot to put a knot at the bottom. As the stitches come undone, so does the heart. It’s still broken.
Now what? Well after reading Rinzler’s Buddhist Advice for the Heartbroken, I decide that it is OK to drink again. I grab a bottle of whiskey this time because Rinzler speaks of whiskey in moderation, and I am a huge fan of whiskey. Hell, if a Buddhist says it’s OK to drink whiskey to get over a broken heart, then who am I to question the advice passed down from Siddhartha himself?
Right now I am tying the knot that I forgot the first time I started stitching. I tie the knot before the whiskey kicks in. I tie it before I call my ex to f*ck my hurt away. I tie it before I start reading any more Buddhist books on dealing with heartbreak. I do this because, when I wake tomorrow, I know that sitting at the bottom of the broken crevice will no longer be acceptable to me. I know that I will start double-stitching early in the morning.
I will sit in meditation. I will send my prayers of love to all beings, and I will stitch.