Moving Out...Moving On

It was 10:00am EST. I tearfully untangled myself from Charlie's arms and looked at his sleeping face. I wanted to memorize every feature and every structure of his beauty, for it was going to be the last time I was ever going to see something so familiar ever again. I brushed my lips lightly against his, like a slight breeze that grazes your skin on cool spring day. His eyes fluttered open as he pursed his lips with the intentions of kissing me back. He looked at his watch.

"OH SHIT!" he exclaimed. He shot up out of that bed as if I had yelled from downstairs "ESPN and blow jobs in the living room!" Never had I seen such motivation, but I knew why he was in a hurry. His friends were going to be at my house any minute to help him move out.

Charlie grabbed all the trash bags and boxes he could, and immediately began jamming his belongings into them. I sat on his bed crying so hard, my chest hurt.

"Please don't leave me." I cajoled. "Isn't there a small part of you that doesn't want to leave me?"

"Yes. There is a large part of me that doesn't want to do this. " he lied. "But I have to."

That was the morning of 29, April 2006. He had only told me he was moving out the night before. I knew his behavior over the last week was peculiar, and I ignored all the signs. There were no guys' nights, nor was there poker. Every night was spent with me, and every night there was a sad and forlorn look in his eyes as he gazed upon me and followed my every move. Every night when we went to bed, he clung to me as if he never wanted to let me go. Every time he spoke to me, there was a sadness in his voice that I attributed to our argument only a few days before. Every morning that he kissed me goodbye before he left for work, was like he was kissing me for the last time.

Despair settled upon me as a sheet of moisture would upon the Earth on a foggy night. The first week was the hardest. I didn't talk to him for days. It seems cliché to say that every second felt like a minute, every minute like an hour, every hour like a day. But that was how the first few days were like with him gone. Sleep was my only escape, yet I couldn't sleep enough. I was determined to plod on through what was left of my life. The morning he left, I made the decision that I wasn't going to let someone who could so easily break my heart break me down. So I went out with my friends that night, and I went to work 2 days later.

Why? Why did I feel this way? Why couldn't I just take a few days and mourn the loss of my love of 7 years. Why did I want to put myself back into society alone and embarrassed by the failings of a seemingly solid relationship. We were the power couple, the couple that everyone envied. We looked great together, and on the surface, we were great together. We were both healthy, successful, and lead a life that nobody else we knew could lead. We were the couple that everyone looked up to and wanted to be like. How could I step out my door and admit that our love wasn't as strong as we all had thought?

My motto: Shit Happens. But you have to plod on through it. It's going to be smelly, it's going to be dirty. But if you just grit your teeth and fight your way through, the sooner you'll get through it, and the sooner you can wipe yourself clean. If you stop and despair, it will only take longer. It's up to you to find the strength within yourself to plod on through your shit.

Don't get me wrong, It was difficult. I cried at work. I cried in my car. I cried at home. I cried at the gym. I cried at the mall. There was no place in the Washington D.C. area in which I didn't spend any time without him in the last 7 years. Every nook and cranny of the area had deeply rooted memories of us. I felt trapped and stifled by my memories, and by a life and existence I had known for so long. Yet, I decided I had to face everything head on.

For years, I wanted my own identity. I wanted to be Vanessa. Instead, I was "Charlie and Ness." To be defined by being a part of a couple - even though I was the better half :) - was quite constraining. I have always been an independent entity, and I realized that this was my opportunity to gain back what was lost. Once I achieve that, only then can I fully give myself to someone who wholly deserves me. I recognized that this path was going to be difficult to follow, but once the destination is reached, I will then be truly happy - with no pretenses. Because, at the end, I will find ME.

We can't help what hands we are dealt in life, but we must do what we must to live our lives to the fullest and the best we can. Every event in life only makes you stronger - you just have to let it.

Cheers to plodding through shit and coming out clean.