HEALING 101

Six months and seventeen days

Six months and seventeen days since I last picked my notepad, to write

I’m not confident in the force that pushed me to pick it up today, but the writer in me will not disappoint- I hope.

I woke up this morning, and just like every other morning, for the past six months and seventeen days, I cast my eyes to your side of the bed.

It’s empty.

I mean, I knew it would be empty.

Staring at it every morning for the past few months should’ve taught me to have stopped by now,

But I guess this is one of the many mini-heartbreaks hope gives you.

 

I look again, and then again.

This morning, instead of feeling all the anger and hurt from the heartbreak,

A wave of calm engulfs me, like swaddling cloth around an infant.

Suddenly, I feel I can get over you, and for real this time,

So that’s when I picked up the notepad and sat in front of my desk. You remember, the one that faces the window. The one you joked about having ‘writer’s magic’?

Yeah, that one.

 

Thirteen minutes in,

Eight rolled-up papers trashed,

And three times standing up to sharpen my pencil,

I realized how hard this actually is.

I realize that force- the calm- was only transient

Only enough to get me out of bed,

Not sufficient to vanquish the anger and hurt.

And I don’t get why!

I don’t get why it had to be so easy for you to move on,

I don’t get why all the eight different sentences I started out to write, before this one, had to start with your name- I do not get it.

I don’t get why I’m stuck, but you’re a free bird.

I don’t get why I’m the one who needs healing.

 

I’ve been down this road before, you know- three times before you

My first was not so tough,

We had only been together two months, and he had to leave the country,

I remember I only shed a few tears at the airport, and that was it.

My second, was relieving, so much such that I did not even need to heal- man was toxic.

My third- the one before you-  was not easy.

We were together four years

He found someone else, and it left my heart in a mess.

It took me four months and thirteen days.

 

Now, you

I gave you a year of my life- the best year left in me,

And it was beautiful while it lasted,

That’s why this hurts so much, I guess

I thought we had forever. How silly!

How wild, to think this free bird would want to be held down.

Thinking in hindsight now, I realize how foolish of me, and selfish that was.

So let me rewrite that line again, ‘You gave me a year of your life,’

I may not appreciate that now, but I know it took a lot from you to stay that one year, in one place- committing, loving, and doing everything that a free-bird would normally not do.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m still mad and hurt,

But I’m seeing now, that I contributed to it- by hoping too much.

You did what you could.

Now, I have to find a way to get back up,

Haha… I’ll probably pick a page or two from your book,

Maybe it’ll work.

Maybe it won’t.

 

Healing is not easy, I’ve come to realize.

There is no formula to it, and that makes it even scarier

On some days, I want my music so low and slow, my eardrums have to beg to be involved

On other days, if my earpiece had the means, it would revolt. I’m sure.

On some days, I’m angry and mad, and pained,

I mean, who wouldn’t be, after having the best year of their lives end so abruptly?

On some days, a flicker of hope, and calm, makes me feel like I can be okay again.

It has been like a trial stage, every day, for the last six months and seventeen days

And this is all I have, honestly.

At least, I get through each day, uniquely.

 

This morning when I woke up, I thought I could conquer the world again,

And write a book on how effective all my strategies for the past six months and seventeen days have been,

Thirteen minutes in, eight rolled-up and trashed papers, and three unnecessary trips to the pencil sharpener later,

I realize I don’t know the least about healing.

You’ve been 'click-baited'

I’m sorry.

Mz. Sefa