Love never lost

When you’re heartbroken everything is blurry. The pain is tangible, rough, rubbing against your already chaffed skin. Your life as you knew it, is no more. For me, I start over. Often I lose a partner, along with a job, or a friend, or a whole bunch of friends, or a living space. You name it. It might be because I am intense, maybe this is how it goes for everyone, or just how the universe works. I’m not sure. What I do know, it fucking hurts. Not just emotionally. But physically. My chest physically aches, my head feels too full of worries to even be touched, my stomach is frozen, digestion put on hold, and this time around, my ears ached so bad, I was woken up twice in excrusiating pain. The pain from heartbreak has no origin. It just hurts. 

Today, I went to one of my past client’s singing recital. I left my job working residential therapy a month ago. It was the first deep cut in my sensitive fierce heart. A old coworker reached out requesting I be there, the client really wanted me to see her sing. I showed up, cutoff stained shorts, three-day greasy hair and a tye dye shirt. As I was looking everyone’s nice outfits and questioning why I thought it was a good idea to not get ready, I was bombarded. Three girls ran at me full speed shrieking my name. I forgot how it felt. I forgot how loved I was. How much I love them. How connected we all are. 

As they hugged me tight, tears welled up in my eyes. Fuck, that’s where my heart has been. I looked into each of their sweet makeup-less eyes and told them how much I missed them, how I had dreams about them after I quit, and how they are still in my thoughts. They all smiled and talked at the same time to update me with their lives. Nothing had changed. They didn’t love me any less, and shit, I loved them even more. 

I sat through the performance, heart as light as a feather, arms wrapped with one of the girls. We all share a heart, I forgot. Each time the girl performing looked our way, her smile grew. She had a whole crew of girls cheering for her-- all of different race, backround and past. I can’t explain the love I felt, other than being a proud mom.

When I was leaving, I hugged each of them tight. Kissed their cheeks. You can’t do that in residential therapy, and I never a gave a damn. I used to kiss their cheeks as they laid in bed, exhausted from intense emotions and outbursts. Today, I told them how proud I was, how much I loved them and told them to go easy on the staff. To remember they are humans too, just like me. I was met with smirks, playful eyes, pinches and kisses.

Walking to my car, I felt a hope I haven’t felt in weeks. Everything will be okay Amanda. They know. They know you love them. And they understand your love. 

And it came to me. That is what heart break is for me. I fear they won’t understand that my love has not dissolved. It has not “run away”. It is still very present. My love does not falter, and it shifts. I don’t know how others love, and I can’t assume, because that would make an ass of you and me. I just know it makes sense now. It makes sense. And for the first time in a month, I can feel my heart lightening.