heartbreak hotel

(...and other reasons you should not text your ex)

my mama always told me* that in life, there is always time for courtesy and that i need to treat others the way i want to be treated. i try really, really hard to live by this rule, as i think most of the time, life's dilemmas's can be solved (or at least partially answered), with this logic. even as a therapist, this logic works well... ("well, client. if she did that to you, don't you think you would have flipped out and thrown her stuff out the window too?").

as much as i try, however, i don't always follow this rule. like, for instance, last night. i had a weak heart and an even weaker set of thumbs. i texted my ex, our first communication since we broke up. a simple text, which led to another text, which led to a stilted, sad-ish conversation that left me wanting more: i miss him. i want to hear about his life. i want to hear about how he is doing. i want his company, to hear his laugh, to feel his arms wrapped around me in a hug. i want to feel his bearded lil' face next to mine. all these thoughts bombarded me as i ran my errands (fyi: hitting the craft and thrift store in rush hour traffic is not the best time to be having a relational mental crisis). rather than recognizing this not-so-ideal situation and leaving it where it was (the sad, broken place it began), i instead invited him over for dinner.

w.t.f., as my text-savvy adolescent clients would say.

i know, i know. that was dumb. it felt dumb. but you know why it was dumb? not because i was weak and went with the confusion in my heart. no, that's just a little vulnerable and somewhat embarrassing. it was dumb because it was selfish, and hurt his feelings. i didn't think about him at all, nor did i treat him how i would have liked him to treat me, had the situation been reversed. of course, he's smart and knows how to take care of himself, so his reply to my invitation stung, and was spot on- and deserved. i couldn't think of how to respond back- if i replied back nothing, then i look like a jerk that was just trying for something and didn't get my way; if i replied back with a 'oh-my-gosh-i'm-so-sorry-i-won't-contact-you-again-i'm-so-thoughtless-i-can't-believe-i-said-that' then i look like a melodramatic 15 year old girl. i dug my own grave, and it sucked to sit in it. i would do anything to take back those few moments.

it really rattles me when i legitimately hurt someone's feelings. i spend all of my inner monologue for the next few days trying to figure out how to apologize in a way they'll know i'm truly sorry, how to fix it, how to make things better, how to explain myself. my stomach turns, and i get grouchy. i fight depression and self-deprecation and really, it's intense and i hate it. it's like a free ride on the crazy train.

what i did come to realize, in this instance, was that i didn't mean to hurt his feelings. that doesn't make it ok, and doesn't take away the sting he may feel, but it does help me give myself grace. i prayed all night and this morning, and the words God kept whispering were: 'as far as the east is from the west, child'. grace. God gives me grace. not only that, but He works in me to change me, and shape me from making the same mistakes. i felt repentant today and last night, more than i have in a long, long time. i felt horrible, so horrible, for hurting someone else and just being so...inconsiderate... to how my words could affect him. i know God grants me grace, and i am resting in that i am not perfect, and in break ups, my imperfections rear the ugly heads even more. so today, i am going to choose to forgive myself and learn from my mistake (coincidence that God is teaching me about gentleness and self control?! i think not, but that's another story...) however, in the spirit of wanting to fix...

i offer this to you, bearded man, if you're reading: i'm really, truly sorry. i realize i am a hot and cold katy-perry song come to life, and that it's hurt your feelings, more than once. i would take it back if i could- i was especially thoughtless last night, and thinking only of myself. i am sorry. please forgive me, in your own time.

*you thought it was something about a box of chocolates, didn't you? nope. all mom told me about chocolate was that about once a month, as a woman, we can eat all the chocolate we want, and not care. then she bought me a large, family sized kit-kat.