Well, I’m here writing again. Not entirely sure why. It’s 11:34, and I should be sleeping. But I can’t. It‘s late at night when these thoughts creep in, always. Righttttt as I’m about to settle in and my hands finally stop fiddling with something, for once, that’s exactly when my brain decides to confront absolutely everything.
Tonight, I’m remembering one of the biggest heartbreaks in my life. Simultaneously one of the greatest series of events that carved me into who I am today. When I describe this heartbreak, I feel like a straight up pussy compared to real pain like…Yeonmi Park level pain. That last sentence could be ripped apart by my therapist, I know. But, on my (I must admit) privileged scale of pain, it’s almost at a 10.
Women have broken my heart so much harder than any man ever has . I don’t have many friends, but the one(s) I do have are like - ride or die, we are in this shit together for life. I’m self-aware enough to know how big of a character flaw it is of mine to cling onto people so tightly, to make their problems my owns and to invest my emotions so deeply. Any girlfriend or group of girlfriends I’ve ever had, it has always taken on a codependent relationship, we become entrenched. This particular relationship that I had followed the same formula. Every little decision I had made in life along the way, put me in the path of this person. And I still resent that fact a little, which is telling of my healing process. Not quite ”complete“.
I was going to go to UB, I was quite set on those plans. I was accepted into their Architecture program, and as a senior in high school I began picturing my life there. Last minute, a counselor stopped me in the hall way to ask about my college plans. He encouraged me to check into Alfred, so I gave it a shot. I was accepted, and with a scholarship that I just couldn’t pass up. I usually attribute this decision as the biggest contributor to the trajectory of my life. I do still think about how different my life would be if I chose the other path.
Anyways, as a Freshman, I was fascinated by every other architecture student. I never had met so many people with such similar interests as me, I was bound to find my click. And I did, eventually. Things were going really well. I especially hit it off with one girl in particular and bam! cue me making her feelings my feelings, cue fully entrenching myself in her relationships with a rotation of upperclassmen, cue me prematurely mourning the loss of her when she told me she had a terminal illness, cue my sadness when she told me nobody bought her presents on Christmas because they thought she'd be dead by now (truly, you cant make this shit up), cue me blocking out my plans for the next 9 months when she told me she was pregnant, cue me grappling with the preciousness of life when she told me she was getting an abortion as I also grappled with my grandfather dying, and cue the absolute *unhinged* rage when I found out it was all a lie. For the sake of privacy, I‘d better stop as I’ve already said enough to paint the picture. I finally put the pieces together after story after story just didn’t add up. My rose colored glasses were smashed upon finally accepting the truth; I had been deceived and utterly crushed.
I am not outward with my feelings, but when I care about somebody as a friend, partner, family member - I care deeper than I could ever find the words for. So naturally, I would spend the rest of college with a grudge that was SO heavy. I dreaded going back to college after breaks, because I despised having to share a classroom with her. I quite literally prayed for her misery. I hoped she would one day hurt as much as she hurt me. Up until then, I thought people we’re either good or bad, with no grey area in between. You can image the mindfuck that was bestowed upon my when my head was so eager to only validate the evil in her, yet my fond memories with her kept tugging at my heart. It was pure torture. I missed her, yet I so deeply wished I had never met her. She was fun, yet deeply wounding. She was creative, yet a chronic liar. She was smart, yet so, so dumb. We could do our hair and makeup together, and party all night. We could spend all-nighters together, and then be in class together all day the next day and never get sick of each other.
My vitriol was so distracting that I would cringe anytime somebody mentioned her name. My stomach would turn when I saw her walking into class, every single day. I relished in her mishaps and faithfully denied her credit for anything at all. It started taking focus away from my own work. I had to be better than her. With every level of criticalness I examined her with, I began doing the same with myself, because. It resulted in walls piling up that blocked creativity, it stopped me from trusting other people's intentions, and I lost trust in my self of judgement of character. I was consumed, everyday with hate.
Time went by, and we were set to study abroad in Italy with a group of ~8 other people. I insisted that I wouldn't let it consume this once-in-a-lifetime trip, so I started to forget about it. I just blocked it out, because it was still so raw. For the first time, we spoke again. I actually one day even asked her to the bar for drinks, like old times. Forgiveness started to creep in.
And you cant make this shit up- BAM! She put the nail in the coffin. To make a long story short, she "anonymously' spread false information to my professor of an online class that I was taking, abroad, and I was given an F and dropped from one of the hardest courses of my life all on the back of a lie. Additionally, failing this course would add a semester (20k) to my academic career and I would lose my scholarhsip because it fucked my GPA so hard (so this would really be costing me closer to ~60k due to having 2 semesters left + and additional one to make that class up). It was personal now, and every time I saw her I had to restrain myself from physically harming her (besides that one time I ran into her after leaving the bar, Zach did have to step in and restrain me). The good news is: this is where my story changes. For what feels like the first time in my life, I stood up for myself as maturely as I had the capacity to. I contested the "F" and spent the subsequent Summer preparing my case for a hearing with my collages academic committee. I put an entire binder together with my accolades, awards, character references, transcripts, employment records etc.... In early September, I made a case for myself and WON.
It was a small-big victory to me, and for me. Despite being scared shitless to do so, I proved to myself that I can hold my own. So, I started doing more things that scared me. Right around this time, Zach and I went on our first date. We had only got to talking because I switched out of a class she was in ( at this point I couldn't be within 10 feet of her ) and into his studio. It's so funny how terrible things can set something into motion to create beautiful things.
It felt like I hit a streak of luck when he asked me to "be his girlfriend". It started out rocky, because of my issues trusting people again, but lucky for me there is nobody more real that Zach. When he came into my life, I was in a horrible place. I was very very damaged and paranoid that everybody was out to get me. It’s not ironic that ‘our song‘ is Paranoid x Kanye West. He came with an essence of “I’m not going to hurt you, you’re safe with me”. Anyways, three months later, I got pregnant with months of college left to go, and my focus was forced to go beyond myself. I had a little life that I had to make sure I could support. The love that flooded in filled the holes where hate resided. I proved to myself that I could graduate college and land a job. She stopped being somebody who was actively on my mind, because it was bombarded with other worries. Meanwhile, I still looked back at what had happened to me with anger. Thankfully, she didn't wind up in Rochester so having distance made her less of a threat to me. The further away she could be, the better. Speaking to a therapist helped me realize that this was entirely in my hands to deal with my remaining baggage. At this point, it almost have to call it jealously. Jealousy that she seemed to have gone on with her life, unaffected.
Healing only began with the confession that she was just as good as she was evil. She was human, with real flaws, and maybe mental illness, but that doesn't = somebody who deserves perpetual hate. No amount of punishment I could imagine seemed sufficient, and the only one suffering here was me with the caveat that hurt people, hurt people. If she was capable of hurting me so deeply, I couldn’t fathom the pain that she must be in daily to live her life like that. Or how awful and lonely it must feel for her to go to bed at night, knowing deep down the untruths she perpetuated. With great resistance, I started praying for her to thrive. Truly, sending out genuine happiness for the good times we did have, because I allowed myself to remember that it was real, and I genuinely enjoyed her as a best friend. I actually wrote on paper, daily, 10 nice thoughts about her. I forced myself to, for a month. I remembered the way we blasted A Tribe Called Quest, driving around Alfred, how we spent hours in Studio together passionate about the same thing, how she had my back when I needed it at times, how we freely exchanged creative ideas, coffee dates, road trips, and how we could talk about anything from makeup to architecture philosophy. I recognized my flaws and blind spots. It’s true that there were red flags, and I willfully ignored them. I recognized how passive aggressively I acted toward her this whole time, and I prayed for myself too. I couldn’t get past somebody making me believe that not only was I losing the man who raised me, but my best friend too. I still am a little fucked in about it. I grant her gratitude, and gave myself grace. Radical Forgiveness.
I finally, finally started to heal. My creativity went from dull to showing a glimmer of hope. I got enough confidence to keep my momentum going and aim higher, so I quit my job and went for my dream one. Once I stopped comparing my life to hers or anyone else, things fell into place for me. Although, it feels like for the first time in my life that landed on my feet, it has nothing to do with anything external. Healing felt like sunshine on your back on a 30 degree day. After all I have so much to be thankful for, and ever day I give her credit for giving me the tools that made it possible for me to build the life I have today. I think bigger, I fight harder, I fail more and succeed more, I am more resilient, I forgive easier, I laugh harder, I cry more especially out of happiness, I love my people so hard for being real. If it weren't for me transferring out of that studio because of my animosity toward her, I wouldn't have spoke with Zach, and I wouldn't have gotten pregnant with Emileo, and therefore had the confidence and drive to leave my mediocre job for the one I dreamed of. This beautiful life was on the other side of pain, waiting for me. I finally arrived, and I'm so thankful for all of the other interactions that will shift my path, even if its in the slightest degree. Failing an entire course (for the first time in my entire life), undeservingly, fighting it, and winning showed me that you can knock me down and I will get back up stronger. I'm thankful for my rage towards her, because it lets me know that I'm human too and I felt that I was worth defending. I guess that's the whole theme, here isn't it? Forgiveness, time, and love are the only way to heal the deepest wounds. If it takes praying everyday until you can live again, do it. Its worth it.
It's so liberating to be free.
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