Letting Go of You (Winter Bites)

I’ve had a lot on my mind these recent weeks. These thoughts swirl through my mind, back and forth. They circle my brain as a predator does to its prey. I want to run from them. I wish to be free from their grasp. I tell myself to “let go” but the truth is, I never wanted to let you go in the first place.

Stubborn pride, I suppose. I fought to find you and I fought to keep you despite the hurdles put in front of us. I was determined and destined to see my plan come to fruition. I wanted it. I needed it. I longed for it.

I spent days, nights, weeks, months, trying to convince myself that it was working; that we were working. For all of my efforts, the still-small voice kept whispering “it isn’t worth it.”

I knew that you and I weren’t going to last. I justified staying with you. I pleaded with myself to find any excuse to pin the problem on me. I wanted to believe that my anxiety was unfounded. I wanted to know that my doubts were based off of an imagination that thrived on fear. So I fought.

I blamed my anxiety on my “flight” tendency. I was afraid of what I knew so I wanted to run. I didn’t want to face this challenge. It was easier for me to give it all up than it was to stay. The problem was with me, not you. At least, that’s what I told myself.

It turns out that my anxiety wasn’t unfounded. My doubts weren’t really doubts after all. The truth was sitting at the forefront of my brain but I didn’t want to believe it. I had finally found something good. As far as I could tell, there was no logical, explanative reason to end our relationship. I was blind.

The truth has a funny way of clearing the muck away from our eyes. I reached my breaking point. I realized that while I was the farthest thing from perfect, the issue wasn’t with me. It all came down to the fact that you weren’t looking for the life that I was. Blinded by my desperation to latch on to the one good thing that had come my way, I couldn’t accept the fact that you never wanted it in the first place.

This shouldn’t come as “new” to you, we’ve discussed this before. What may surprise you is that I have yet to grieve over any of this.

Not once, since we went our separate ways, have I cried over losing you. Not once have I looked back and truly longed to have you back. I’ve had moments of loneliness but logic quickly pushed my emotion out of the way. 

The overarching emotion that I’ve experienced is apathy. I suppose that all of my effort, emotion, and energy was exhausted on fighting to keep something that wasn’t ready to be kept. 

I sit here now with very little motivation in maintaining any semblance of contact with you. It’s the winter, as you know. I’m too busy fending off a lingering depression while I watch you from a distance. Tears or not, it’s time to let you go.

I thought I had done so before but I realize that all of my emotion towards you was another way of saying goodbye. It’s with that that I burn this bridge, settle into the ashes, and mourn what once was and what can never be. 

When I am finished, I will stand up, brush off the dust, and move forward.

I have found that expressing your deepest thoughts, dreams, and fears can be one of the most liberating practices you can do. I hope that you enjoyed what you read and that it even inspires you to move on in your own way.

As you can probably tell, my depression is lingering ever closer these days. It’s hard to wake up. It’s hard to write. It’s hard to stay motivated. I’m trying to maintain a level of joy and cheer but the fight is becoming increasingly difficult as we dive deeper into the winter months. I know that I am not the only one.

With that said, don’t forget to join us this Wednesday for our next entry into Finding Who We Are. My Dad is actually our guest author this week. I’m incredibly excited to share with you what he has written. I have the utmost respect for him and I hope that you will make an effort to read his post.

Let me know how you are doing in the comments below or if there are ways that I could be praying for you.

You are loved.

You are valued.


6 Replies to “Letting Go of You (Winter Bites)”

  1. I understand pain and wanting to express that. I get it, i really do. But there is a time and place to do so publicly. This is not the time or place. It is not fair to this lady to be called out like this in such a public manner. This is something that should have been said or written to her personally and has no place to be on the Internet where people who she and you know can see this. Imagine standing in front of a crowd of people and saying all this while she was in the crowd. It would be super cringey and inappropriate. I personally felt guilty for reading something that i should never have been allowed to read. Have some class, be a gentleman, and grieve without dragging someone who you once cared about through the mud.


    1. Well, Anonymous, I do appreciate you expressing your thoughts here. Next time, though, feel free to express who you actually are. Pseudonyms and secret sauces aren’t our thing around here. Honesty and transparency is. 🙂 Have a great day!


  2. Matthew your story was inspiring. I loved the analogy of ‘burning the bridge’. Its commonly said, but its just clicked with me now. You can’t go back to the past if that bridge has been burned down. I identify a bit with your story. I’m sorry you’re depressed. So am I. On our side of the world this time of the year is notorious for depression because its the rainy season, grey and dismal. Let’s both be kind to ourselves as we suffer through this symptom. Sometimes I find its good to have a break from the ‘trying’, and just ‘be’, to take a rest, catch your breath, hide under the duvet. And you too are valued 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. This is the most encouraging thing I’ve read in quite a while. Thank you for your kind words! I’m trying to be very patient with where I am. Unfortunately, there are some who are not. It’s hard to be patient with oneself when there is a pull towards fitting in to a certain mold. It makes my heart sad because I just don’t fit in. I never have and I don’t want to. It’s lonely.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Excellent post, as always.
    “It’s hard to wake up. It’s hard to write. It’s hard to stay motivated.”
    Amen. And amen. Not much to be said when you sum it up in three simple sentences.
    To read isn’t so difficult, but to respond is. Fear of getting your hand slapped is a good motivator for not reaching out in the first place.
    —i’m glad you are close with your father and that he is doing a post for you. That said, i am also jealous – the child inside me is jumping up and down screaming bloody murder at the thought of a friend having a father he can share with. As maddening as it is to realize not all fathers are like mine was – it is somehow confirming to the fact that the world, in general, is not a wholly nasty place.
    But certainly is in my corner of the world.
    Keep writing. Keep reaching. Keep touching.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. It’s good to hear from you, my dear friend. I have been thinking of you often. Im also thankful that you found relateability here.
      I can understand your anger and I dont blame you. Im truly sorry and heartbroken over what your father was and what he did to you. You are greatly loved in my corner of the world. Dont forget it!

      Liked by 1 person

Leave a Confession

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s