'versary

It's been three years since I broke up with my ex.

This was a Postsecret postcard quite a long time ago. It's not exactly descriptive of my situation because I don't call that abuse (but some other people hinted at the term). Abuse is either really obvious or pretty vague. Still, I identified with this postcard. I was so relieved to get out.

Three years. Three years, and I'm still afraid of being accused of being indiscreet, still have a hard time considering myself kind because he said I wasn't, still afraid of being burdened with someone else's problems or leaning too hard with my own, still afraid of your anger and my tears, still feel uncomfortable with the thought of in-laws either loving or hating me, still unable to think that anything will last forever, still not interested in considering marriage. The realism that I traded for naivety has jaded into pessimism that makes me hesitant towards the future.

I sense the looming question: "If this residue from that relationship still remains, doesn't that mean you're not over it, not actually ready to be moving on?" No, that's not it. Some things linger for a long time - they change you and become a part of who you are. You're over the relationship, but you can't deny who it made you or expect that you should come out completely unscathed. For better and for worse, I am so much different than I was back then.

And I have come pretty far in the past three years. I no longer feel nauseous at the thought of a relationship (obviously) - that's some pretty big progress. I think I've mostly given up the princess attitude that used to come out sometimes. I've hugely improved at considering my problems my own and not making them someone else's problem as well, and at letting my boyfriend be himself without trying to manipulate him into what I think he should be. Growth!

Three years. The tone of tonight is that of another calm "Farewell."