El Ex Tóxico
We all have one.
Oh, we don’t? Lol
I started writing this to process my feels, because that’s what I do. It’s so cathartic, especially the hit share part.
But I don’t want this to be another thank you letter. Although I am grateful. Not for teaching me how to love myself. That’s a given.
I’m grateful for the depth of my soul you drove me to. A depth I had never accessed. Because I never needed to.
You. The toxic ex. The twin flame. The karmic love.
We latch on to titles to make sense of it.
Because it makes NO MF SENSE.
Me, a somewhat emotionally intelligent, empathetic, wise woman in her mid-30s, running in circles like a naive teenager deliriously in love. Emphasis on the delirious.
How did I end up here? Again. And again. And again.
And I think I finally know why.
Because I chose this. I consciously chose the path of passion and heartbreak.
I wanted this. I know. But I did. I actually wanted this. I wanted adventure. I wanted to escape the comfort. The safety. The known. I wanted to dive head first into feeling something, ANYTHING. I wanted to explore and question and seek and I wanted to FEEL FCKING ALIVE.
And this is what it means – (to me I guess lol) – to feel alive. It means sharing blankets and snacks with strangers on overnight trains in India. It means following in Bourdain’s foodie footsteps in Vietnam. And it means experiencing heart wrenching gut wrenching heartbreak. At least once (only once calm down ok lol).
I guess this was part of the *adventure* package I chose.
And because of you I have clarity. Crystal clear clarity. Because of you life feels different. A good kinda different. A more aware, awakened kinda different. A deeper, sweeter, softer different.
Music feels deeper, sweeter, softer. Different. I’ve been listening to Lauryn Hill’s Ex-Factor since I was a little girl. But now, I hear it as a women who can relate. And it sounds better with these new set of ears. Screaming THIS IS CRAZY HOW CAN I EXPLAIN MYSELF?!? Is sooooooo fcking healing. I lost my voice singing Jessie Reyez Still C U.
A dear friend told me this kind of relationship is the second hardest thing I will ever experience. Grief and death being the first. That it’s a process. To be kind to myself, and to fiercely protect myself.
Danny told me I’m healing a soul wound. That it’s not about you. It’s life asking me to enter the depths of my pain and pull it out from its roots. Because I’m being called to help others do the same.
Danny is my therapist lol.
Whatever the reason, I wanted this. I did.
I wanted to fcking live. To love. To mistaken love. To face my own unworthiness. To feel that. Head fcking on.
To pull this sht from its roots.
And I lived. I did. I fcking lived. I loved. I fcking loved. I lost. But I won. I woke up. The fck up.
You stop being so sad when you just get tired of being so sad. When you get tired of your own bullsht. When you realize how hungry you were for love you settled for crumbs.
And when you realize you don’t need to be so hungry. You don’t have to be so desperate for something you *already* are.
And you remember. True love. Real love. Perfect love. You remember God’s unconditional love.
When you surrender. The ultimate surrender. Of this illusion of love. This delusion. The fantasy. And you awaken to reality. The reality that this perfect Love you seek is already yours.
