Maybe it’s the plethora of friends getting married last year/this year. Maybe it’s because I’m reading “Wild” (because god forbid I see a movie without reading the book first). Maybe it’s because I opened my phone on my break today and realized…”Holy shit. There isn’t anyone I was hoping to have a text from.” Regardless of the maybe’s, one thing rang true:
For the first time in a long time, I don’t belong to anyone.
Now pump your breaks for a second, because I can hear the criticism now. “Cassie, no matter what you NEVER belong to someone, you are your own person!” Yeah, I fucking know that. But that’s not what I’m talking about.
I’m talking about my heart. It doesn’t belong to anyone. At all. I told a good friend this today and he said, “how does that make you feel?” And the only answer I could muster up was, “heartbroken…and oddly whole.”
Heartbroken because, for the first time in at least a year, I’m not hoping. I’m not wishing or worried or wondering. I’m not giddy over someone. I’m not primping and praying that this is the date that makes it “real.” I’m not over analyzing every word a man I’m interested in says to me, holding tight to the belief that it means what I want it to.
As much as half of that sounds horrible (and sometimes it is), it’s also how you know there may be something wonderful happening. The heartbreak lies in the blank space. (Yeah, that’s a T. Swift term, deal with it.) The melancholy sits deep inside, where the butterflies should be. It makes you wander to memories past, and it makes you wonder about it all. The almost wonderful’s, the not quite happy’s, the what the fuck happened’s.
Even before I gave my heart away last year, before “he” came into my life, there was always someone. An interest, a guy I wanted or wondered about…for as long as I can remember. Someone who I didn’t just want, but NEEDED…to make me feel worthy, valuable, legitimate. And now there isn’t. For the first time, there isn’t. I’m dating, but it’s different. There’s no one that I need or whose words or attention make me feel “good enough.”
I guess I’m heartbroken for myself. That I spent so much of my life hoping to be enough for someone, without even realizing it. Giving so much power to something that was so out of my control. I’m hurting for the girl who grew up to be a woman that needed approval. I’m hurting for so many women who inside are still girls needing approval.
But I’m whole. For the first time since, well, probably the first time ever, I’m whole. I’m broken, and I’m far from having it all together, and in a lot of ways I’m still a disaster, but I’m whole (or at the very least, well on my way to it). I feel good belonging to no one. It feels right. I have all the pieces to the puzzle, and now it’s just a matter of putting them into place.
It’s a scary thought, not belonging to anyone, but it’s a brave thought, too. I think we too often rely on others to light a path for us so that we don’t ever have to get too uncomfortable, so we don’t ever have to really figure it out. But that’s not what I want. Not for me, and not for any of you.
So I hope that no matter where you sit, at a table for two or as a party of one, that you’re brave enough to be uncomfortable. That you’ll light your own path.
And that you’ll realize it’s absolutely okay to be heartbroken and whole.
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