Little windows

Cleveland Museum of Art

This essay goes backwards I guess. You’ll just have to read to the end.

*

I don’t know, if I would really call it jealousy anymore. But it’s that sensation, like you’ve just been hit by a car. That total body sensation of crashing. That’s how I felt, when I saw their names one after another. Because it still makes me wonder.

It’s not that I’m not moving on. But it’s just that that hurt can run so deep. Because it wasn’t all about him. It was also about me.

It was about feeling that I wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t good enough to be the girlfriend, whatever that meant. I wasn’t good enough to be acknowledged. All the mistreatment that I accepted because deep down, it was a comfortable feeling. It felt exactly like what I deserved. And those feelings are my own demons to deal with.

Feeling hurt, to see their names? It’s because they seem to be happy, it’s because they are still around. But maybe they are just more broken than I am. At least than I used to be.

I used to be jealous of any woman who would say she was his “girlfriend.” I don’t really know how I fit into those scenarios but I am pretty sure none of them knew about me. I will probably never know, but in my mind they were the ones betraying me. I was the one who was being hurt. And I was. But maybe they were, too. And maybe they still are. Or maybe they are just okay with the way things are.

So why does it hurt me to see their names? Why does it hurt me to see them together? Why do I still wonder if he treats them the same way he treated me? He can’t be that different with them: people can’t hide their true selves forever. But they seem to be happy and it kills me, really. Less than before, but still. Because it reminds me of how miserable I was. It reminds me of how hurt I was. It reminds me of feeling like I was worth nothing even when I was so desperately trying to prove how much I could offer. To show him how good I could be.

It’s not that I want to be in their shoes. Eventually, things will run their course because they have to.

Jealously, I guess, it meant that I couldn’t trust him. And it felt like that was exactly how it was meant to be. I couldn’t imagine things would’ve ever gone differently.

*

I promise, I’ve learned my lesson. I don’t envy them and I don’t want him back.

My friend told me that jealously is a poison we give ourselves. Because even when we know something hurts us, if that is our acquired taste, it can be hard to try something new. I’m almost embarrassed to write this, to admit that this still hurts me sometimes. However, that is the human component. I can give myself grace to acknowledge that I can still hurt while I’m healing. I can still hurt while I am learning to trust again and be open and vulnerable with somebody new.

I am learning that it is okay to smile and laugh. I am learning that there are good people who can show up for you, who can care for you, who can respect you, and who can make it clear that it’s you they want to be with. I thought I would have to heal myself before I could ever imagine being with someone else, but it didn’t turn out that way. And I think I will be healing for a while. I can feel it when I still can’t relax, even when I am having a good time. I feel it when I am nervous to say something because of the reaction I have come to expect. I feel it when I am embarrassed to ask a question that I used to know the answer to. But now, everything is different. The approach is different, the answer is different. It is the kind answer, the respectful and considerate one. And I immediately feel a sense of surprise and relief.

I would say I am undergoing some rewiring. Adjusting my expectations. I am grateful, to have met someone who can help me change them, help me raise them. But this change is also going on within me. It is a shock to the system, really, to experience these healthy relationship dynamics after being in such an unhealthy one. It is like putting on a winter jacket to go out in December but instead it is 100 degrees.

*

As usual, my essays usually take me where they want me to go. I started to write this essay to acknowledge that I somehow still feel hurt seeing women in relationships with a man who hurt me. Instead, I think I am acknowledging all that deep hurt within me. I don’t want to pretend like everything is better because it’s not. But as my friend says, I am starting to open up the “finestrelle,” the little windows. Little windows of hope. Little windows of possibilities. That things won’t always be like this. That there are good hearts out there. That it is possible to love and trust and try again.

Just because you are hurting doesn’t mean you aren’t healing. Hang in there. And open up a little window to hope that things can be better. Eventually, you might just believe in it yourself.

love,

greer