I moved out on March 28th. As I packed up my entire apartment and the life that I had made for myself, I felt hopeless. My family was worried that I’d backslide into my mood swings and depression, remaining alert with every move I made.
I remember halfway through packing, I just sat down on a box and started sobbing. The fear was not that I would miss B or our relationship, but rather that I would no longer have the strong independence and will to live as before. When you make something your own and put time and effort into it, it stings throughout your veins if its taken away from you. The paintings I purchased for the walls, our table, our couch, our setup- all useless.
But with every cloud comes- you guessed it- a silver lining. Lame and cliche, but ever true. It wasn’t long before I found myself engaging in a new conversation, a better one. The glass began to shatter, so to speak, and I started to see B as I hadn’t before. Perhaps in the throws of our relationship I was blinded, but it was blatantly obvious to me now- he was not good to me.
M is good to me. He protects me, he takes care of me, he makes me laugh and talks me off the ledge without being condescending. Last night, I found myself sprawled out on the bed as his fingers flew fast across his guitar. Listening to him play the guitar is the most comforting thing in the world. When I hear it, a blanket comes over me and calms me down instantly, his fingers gently scratching the strings. Through my depression and hard times, I felt so alone, but now I don’t have to. I found the person who makes me strive to be a better human and not give up on life. I know I’m going to be okay because he is in my life.
That’s all anyone could ask for, right?
Gailmarie 