Broken Pieces

So, there I was, sitting on the floor of our shared bedroom, surrounded by tossed objects and shattered glass, staring up into the eyes of someone who was suddenly a stranger. My boyfriend of a year and a half, the man I loved, the man I thought I was going to marry, was cheating on me...with a mutual friend.

It turned out she wasn't the only one either. There were six in total, starting from six months into our relationship. Meaning one whole year of our relationship had been founded on lies. So suddenly, the solid ground I had believed I was standing on had given way, and I was staring the truth right in the face... I had to either pick up the pieces and put myself together or get swept up with all the other debris he had left in his wake.

But how could I put something together that had been broken so many times? Was it even possible?

At first, he had been there for me. Crazy for most people to hear, I know, but I believed we genuinely cared for each other, and he had promised he would "Always have my back." Well, it turned out that was a lie too, and about a month later, he texted me to tell me I would never be hearing from him again, and that was that.

At first, I tried the unhealthy things that the human mind and body automatically go to when we want to get over a hole in our lives. Fill it with something similar. So I went to parties. I drank. I downloaded Tinder, and Bumble, and Whisper, and all those other stupid apps where I could have boys who only knew me by a picture or even just by my age and gender, could tell me how pretty/hot I was, or feed me other compliments they thought I wanted to hear just to get what they wanted. No matter how many people I talked to, no matter how many compliments I received, nothing filled that void.

So then I tried the healthier things, thinking, "Hmmm, maybe the things that are supposed to be 'healthy' for me might actually help me heal." So, I spent time with friends who actually cared about me. We went to the lake, went to ride my horses, went hiking, and spent time in the sun. I realized just how much I had given up only spending time with my boyfriend, who only ever slept and ate and worked and cleaned the house. I went to church and I found peace that I hadn't felt in a long time. I realized how much I missed waiting on him to come with me, and why I should have gotten out of bed and gone by myself.

I looked back on past relationships, especially my first real and painful heartbreak. I remembered how I thought that surely I would die (it certainly felt that way), yet somehow I was able to pull myself up and make myself whole again. I remembered that no matter how many times someone smashes a puzzle, that it can still be put together to form the beautiful and whole picture.

I realized that this may not be the last time that I get broken, or that I think I lose myself, and that I'm definitely not done healing yet. But I also realized that no matter how many times I got knocked down in my life, I would always stand up once more.