I use to believe the problem with a broken heart was that I had a broken heart. I hated the tight feeling in my chest when I thought about the person who had caused me so much pain. I hated the feeling of warm tears running down my face. I hated waking up in the middle of the night overwhelmed by all my subconscious thoughts and feelings. I hated feeling broken.
I am now a woman who has had my fill of broken hearts, and while I don't like the tight feeling in my chest, or the warm tears streaming down my face, the restless nights or the deep brokenness I feel when I find myself alone and silent, I no longer believe the problem with a broken heart is that I have a broken heart, I've decided that the true problem with a broken heart is that I don't know how long my heart is going to be broken.
At 26 years old I no longer wonder if my heart will heal. I know it will. I no longer believe that I won't possibly move on, I know I will. I know that my heart will heal, I will heal, that I'll meet someone new, that I'll move on. I know that I'll love other people. I know that I'll slowly forget how awful the end of this chapter feels. I know, I know, I know! I know so many things. What I don't know is when the heartache will come to an end.
I wonder how long I'll continue to check my phone with that little sliver of hope that he's come around.
I wonder how long it will be until he's not the one I find myself crying in a bathroom bar about after I've had a couple of shots.
I wonder how long it will be before I will no longer be tempted to on the worst days, dull the pain with chocolate, hard liquor, male attention and sleeping until noon.
I'm thankful that with age I've learned that eventually my heart will be renewed, however, no amount of age or experience will ever provide me with an equation by which I can find the ultimate answer I'm always in search of... I will never have a way of knowing how many days it will take my heart to finally catch up with my brain. How many days until I'm finally over "that one guy"
I am now a woman who has had my fill of broken hearts, and while I don't like the tight feeling in my chest, or the warm tears streaming down my face, the restless nights or the deep brokenness I feel when I find myself alone and silent, I no longer believe the problem with a broken heart is that I have a broken heart, I've decided that the true problem with a broken heart is that I don't know how long my heart is going to be broken.
At 26 years old I no longer wonder if my heart will heal. I know it will. I no longer believe that I won't possibly move on, I know I will. I know that my heart will heal, I will heal, that I'll meet someone new, that I'll move on. I know that I'll love other people. I know that I'll slowly forget how awful the end of this chapter feels. I know, I know, I know! I know so many things. What I don't know is when the heartache will come to an end.
I wonder how long I'll continue to check my phone with that little sliver of hope that he's come around.
I wonder how long it will be until he's not the one I find myself crying in a bathroom bar about after I've had a couple of shots.
I wonder how long it will be before I will no longer be tempted to on the worst days, dull the pain with chocolate, hard liquor, male attention and sleeping until noon.
I'm thankful that with age I've learned that eventually my heart will be renewed, however, no amount of age or experience will ever provide me with an equation by which I can find the ultimate answer I'm always in search of... I will never have a way of knowing how many days it will take my heart to finally catch up with my brain. How many days until I'm finally over "that one guy"
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