Fall.

It was August. I had just moved back to Oregon from Hawaii with a half broken heart and unsteady grounding. No place to live, a car with everything I owned and a love 2,000 miles away from me. My plans to move to the mainland with my partner had fallen through, he wasn’t ready. Bull-headed and strong willed, I told myself I had to do it with or without my island lover; that I was a strong independent woman and I could do anything alone.

That is how it started.

I was officially severed from my island flame and the pain…. It was overwhelming. I didn’t know it at the time, but I did everything in my power not to feel it.

My new coworker invited me out salsa dancing. I don’t salsa. Anything with certain rules and steps to do something is not my forte. Everything about me screams, “I do it my way!” It terrified me to be put in a room with a bunch of experienced dancers glistening and flitting around effortlessly. So I said “yes”, I’d at least try it out.

The moment I walked in I regretted my decision. Hair a mess, super-glued flip-flops and tired eyes, I felt so out of place. Immediately, a young handsome-enough fellow walked up and asked my friend to dance. “WHAT THE HECK, THEY HAVE TO ASK US TO DANCE?! Kill me now!” I kept thinking.

Out of the blue, like I would soon learn is his signature, a man with long blond hair tucked neatly in a bun and a shiny nose ring approached me. Gently he asked me to dance. No fucking way. Nope. Not dancing. I kindly declined. He asked again. No thank you, I would rather just watch. “Come on, I’ll teach you,” he said arm reaching for me. Fine, face your fear Amanda. And so I danced.

We stood face to face, strangers, smiling at one another. He held my hand softly and I let him. I couldn’t trust him to lead me. I went the wrong way each time to spin. I stepped left instead of right and he just smiled and went with it. We sat down, talking for hours. He was an artist in everyway of the definition. He was shy, his body not facing mine fully. Yet he was engaging and warm. His almond eyes smiled at me while his mouth spoke. I heard his words; I felt his soothing, grounding energy. I was just newly single and no, I did not want to love this quickly.

That night we went our separate ways yet our hearts stayed connected. I slept for all about two hours. My body was pulsing with magnetic energy. What is going on?! This has never happened to me! And all I could think about was him.

The next day he asked me to go to a BBQ with all of his friends. I was terrified to meet everyone already, so of course, I said yes. We sat next to each other talking to the other’s friends, yet our energy was being shared. I invited them dancing, of course they went.

Time flew by yet slowed down. We were together from the day we met. It felt like we had been together for lifetimes. He told me he hadn’t dated anyone for a couple of years. That he does things slowly. And he did, so uniquely. He was particular with many things. He didn’t like when I borrowed his clothes. He had to go home after each sleepover because he had a routine. He was religious and believed his sexuality mustn't be expressed fully until marriage. He did not like to drink but didn’t care if I did. He liked to wear his shoes in my house. That was all his stuff, and I accepted it and embraced him.

I surprised him with my responses to his actions. He uninvited me to a work party and I understood; it was not about me. He decided to go home one weekend on a whim leaving our plans hanging, he needed some alone time, I understood. No, I am no fucking Buddha. Some of his actions cut deep and I knew it wasn’t about me. My anxiety began to creep, leaving me spinning on my days off work.

He spoke of how he felt like he wasn’t a good boyfriend, that he felt unsure of everything. That his heart wouldn’t allow him to love, that he had never been in love. That he couldn’t give me what I wanted. Ladies and gents, when people tell you they cannot love you, please believe them.

I calmly told him it was okay. And I believed myself. That he was being too harsh on himself. That he was not selfish. That I cared about him and that he could love and it didn’t have to be with me. I assured him of what I knew was true in my soul. Love is everywhere and all we need to do it let it in.

We began to argue. He was battling an internal battle and I had no say in what was the outcome. He wanted to be everything to me but couldn’t be vulnerable enough to let me in. I loved this man. I didn’t care if he didn’t love me yet, I saw a future. It was a different kind of love. I craved time away from him as much as I yearned for his love. I knew I needed to be single. I felt it in every inch of my being.

Being single…. It seemed too fucking scary! Everyone at my work place has partners and all my friends are settling down. How the fuck am I going to navigate this love struck town as a single girl?

He kept expressing his worry about our trip to see my college friends. He was worried I was going to party too hard. I assured him it would be fine, that he would love them.

Fast forward to a particular Saturday that I forgot to eat before drinking for the first time in months. This isn’t who I am anymore. I got sick. He wasn’t happy. I bailed on going out, I couldn’t. I lay in my bed when I got home and things spiraled. I don’t remember the exact words that were exchanged. I remember like a movie telling him, “If you walk out, we are never dating again. I don’t do this thing twice”. And he walked out. Quickly. Without turning back.

I followed him. He brought me home. Just as quickly as he danced his way into my life, he disappeared leaving his imprint on my heart.

He has not tried to reach out to me. He does things his way. I accept that. They say that when someone walks out of your life, let them.

I don’t usually give up on things — I fight until I am exhausted, and then I fight some more. This is where I am learning.

Trusting.

Everything that happens, happens for us. Not to us.

That some people are in our lives to teach us important lessons, and then they leave.

He taught me so much about myself, himself, others, what it really means to be open and when silence is just as important as words. He taught me about hard work, both in the professional and the personal sense. He changed my view on relationships and what I really want in a partner.

I used to believe that relationships are always supposed to be full of excitement, intense emotions and deep romantic love. I have now changed my mind. Relationships are what they blossom in to; with each person it will be different. The difference in each one is what makes it beautiful and unique. 


The hurt, the tears, the thoughts… they all will come and go. Some days it will be difficult to get out of bed and live the life I created. And I can do it. 

 The only thing I can do, we can do, is to feel these feels. Wholly, entirely, and know everything works out exactly as it should. That with every heart ache and heart break, our hearts expand a little more. It fucking hurts. Terribly. And with the hurt comes more love. 

Love has not tainted me, it teaches me. Every severance has ingrained in me new wisdom, new scars, to remind me that I am alive and loving. Hard.