It’s funny that there comes a moment where you just stop being angry. When you realize that you’re going to be okay after all. The sun is still shining, the world is still spinning, and you’re still breathing. I honestly never believed that this moment would come, and I especially didn’t think it would happen so quickly. But there is it–the truth. Black and white, clear as day, inescapable: I’m okay.
I’ve had a lot of time to sit back, to look at everything that’s happened, and here’s what I’ve realized: Andrew and I meant something very special to each other. We shared something together that not everyone is lucky enough to experience. We spent six glorious, messy, beautiful, rocky, racy, and meaningful years together. We had our share of ups and downs, but I learned just what it meant to be love (when I needed it the most).
But, the truth is there was also a large part of myself I forced myself to hide because it went against this skewed image I had of the perfect girlfriend. I think I understand now what Andrew meant when he told me I had lost my spark. I tamed myself down when I was with him, and in my eyes I see that being part of the reason why we couldn’t keep together. It was almost as though I was two different people. The girl I thought I should be–the perfect homebody girlfriend–and the girl I couldn’t help but be. And when that second girl came out, it usually got me into trouble. And without a doubt, when I was with Andrew and we were around my friends, I almost got angry at him because I felt like I had to force myself to remain the good girl, the good girlfriend. And it never ended well.
But now, stepping back, I know I want that spark back. I want to be the spontaneous (and a little bit wild) girl I used to be. I’m not saying I want to be completely stupid, but there is a part of me that just wants to let loose. Don’t get me wrong, I loved every moment that I spent with Andrew. But there is a part of me that is happy to be able to go out, and get silly, and not feel like I’m being a bad person. I have a wild side, I always have. And now I don’t have to worry about feeling guilty for it. And now, as much as I laughed at the idea when I first heard about it, I think there is a certain tattoo that I need to get. Because the truth is, that tattoo has as much meaning about who I am as it does for my friends who already have it. I am who I am–messy, awkward, and sometimes prone to fits of drunken nudity (but only around my closest friends). I shouldn’t feel the need to hide, or apologize for that.
After all, if I can’t love myself wholly and completely–flaws and all–then how the hell can I expect anyone else to?