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Bre Got Dumped, What!?

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It’s eleven o’clock at night, and I’ve been writing blog posts for at least the past hour and a half. I really should call it quits and start getting into bed. I’m trying to set better routines for myself, you see. Apparently it’s supposed to help with depression.

However, a thought’s been on my mind. To be honest with you, it’s deeply personal. Not like the other things I write about aren’t, but I’m not entirely sure it has a point to it. I’m just a random person on the internet – why would you care about what I’m going through? You have enough people swamping you with updates on their lives without adding another stranger into that mix. Why would I matter?

And I don’t, not really. I’m not even sure if I’m actually going to post this one.

But here it is: my boyfriend just broke up with me. It’s been a few days now, but I’ve never been dumped before. This is my first relationship we’re talking about here. He lives in the same house as me, we’ve been through a heck ton of things together, and we had been dating for over a year now.

That hasn’t been easy.

I don’t want to talk about that part. Heartache is not the purpose of this post, and frankly, as much as he said we were breaking up, we really aren’t. It hurts, sure. But I’m getting over it.

To be completely honest, we didn’t have much of a relationship. In the past few months, I’ve hardly seen him at all. I came to realize that neither of us was ready for the kind of relationship that both of us wanted from each other, and I thought that it would be best to just step back and be friends for a while. Build up our relationship the proper way, take the pressure off – that sort of thing.

But I was scared. I didn’t want to tell him that. What do I say, “we should focus on just being friends for now because I feel like that’s what we both need?” And then he takes that as a sign I’m breaking up with him and he gives up and decides we can never have a future together after that? Heck no, I’m not letting it go. We can keep going in the way things are right now, and if I change my behavior, things will eventually get better.

Until, of course, he pulls me downstairs at three in the morning and tells me that we’re breaking up.

He didn’t want to talk about it at first. I knew it was coming. I even prepared a response in my head as to what I was going to say to him when it happened. Of course, that didn’t go over the way I thought it would. So instead, I’m following him throughout the house as he tries to avoid me, as he’s saying that we can talk about it when I’m less emotionally high strung, and demanding that he listens to what I have to say. He hates it, he’s clearly fed up and ticked off with me, but he goes for it anyway.

I ask him why, and his reasoning is messy. I’m not going to go into it. It’s personal stuff for him that I’m surprised he even said to me in the first place, and broadcasting his stuff to the world is the last thing I want to do.

Basically, it came down to this: he’s not ready for a relationship, he can’t give me what I need right now, so he wants to break up and be friends for a while, because I’m still a very important person to him, and he wants me in his life.

I know that’s what had to happen. We had to take a step back from each other, to get rid of some of the pressure, to take time to focus on ourselves and who we are without having to mix up another person into that. But we still love each other and care about one another, and dating or not, we want to be in each other’s lives.

But you know what? He let me go. He was brave enough to do what I couldn’t. Here I was, trying to make everything better by changing my actions, trying to repair something that was beyond both of us to fix, while he did the honourable thing and said ‘I can’t date you in the right way right now, and I respect both myself and you enough to not continue to pursue something that I’m clearly not ready for. We both deserve to do a relationship right, and if I can’t give you that, I have to stop pretending that I can.’

Part of me is mad at myself that I didn’t have as much courage as him. He took such a risk. In saying that, he was breaking his own heart. That much was obvious. As much as it hurt me, I know for certain it hurt him ten times worse. He knew I was going to be upset, but he didn’t know how I was going to respond. He can tell me that he cares about me and I’m super important to him all he wants, but he doesn’t know if I’m going to understand that. He doesn’t know if I’m going to see past his facade and understand what he’s really thinking and what’s really going on. He doesn’t know if I’m going to respect him, if I’m going to agree, or if he’s just about to lose one of the most important people in his life. More than that, he rents a room from my mom, and he has no idea if she’s going to kick him out after all this. But he had the strength and integrity to put both of us first. And I know he didn’t make the decision lightly.

My point isn’t to talk about how this is all for the best, how it clearly needed to happen, and if we have any chance of having a relationship at all, this is the way things need to be right now. My point isn’t to talk about how much it hurt, or how I’m going to manage to just be his friend for now when all I really want to do is to take his stupidly adorable face and kiss him senseless. To be honest, I don’t really know what my point is. Maybe I just wanted to share with you some of my own story, a part in my journey that hurts like hell, but one that I’m really quite proud of. I’m proud of him for doing what he did. He broke up with me because he loves me, you know. It’s as simple as that. I’m proud of how I’m handling all this, and how much I’ve been moving forward and learning about my own self in the past couple of days.

I’m happy, and as much as it hurts, I’m really excited about it. Because of this, we can start over from the beginning. I can find my freedom again – I can start to discover who I am and begin to act in that. He can have the space and the relief he needs to start figuring out his own life. And things are going to be better with us. I’m not going to feel stressed about whether or not I should talk to him, if he’s going to be mad with me, or if he’s going to dump me. That’s already happened. And he doesn’t have to worry about having to take care of another person when he can hardly figure himself out right now.

And, at the end of the day, I know I could go down and talk to him right now, and nothing would be different between us. We’d still be us. We’d still talk and joke around and have fun, we’d still watch stupid shows and insult each other’s taste in music. But we’ll be able to be like that without all the other stuff, all the nasties, that was preventing us from being who we really are.

If I had to go through something like this with anyone, I’m glad it’s someone as safe as him. Because it’s not like it’s over, it’s not like we’re not compatible and don’t work well together and we’re never speaking to each other again, its ‘I respect you and your life, and I’m going to be here for you in the best way I can right now, and we’ll see where the the future takes us together.’

So right now, I need to focus on myself. I’ve been held down for so long by anxiety and depression and fears, that I hardly know who I am without all those things. But I can never be the person he needs, the person I need myself to be, if I can’t find my freedom. I need to rediscover myself, to claim myself as who I am where I can let everything go and just be. And until then, I have his picture up on my wall, and all I can do is hope that he waits for me until i’m at a place where I’m okay enough within myself to move forward with things. With everything. With my life. If he doesn’t, that’s okay. But I’m pretty sure he will. After all, it’s been almost nine year since I’ve met him, and no matter what happens, we always seen to find each other again.

Maybe the point of this whole thing was really just to say: “This is me, I’m moving forward, and I want you to be apart of that journey. Let’s move forward and find freedom together.”

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