Every break up, no matter how upsetting or with what level of pain, poses personal questions. In the past, I’ve usually ended up asking questions like: What was wrong with me? Why wasn’t I good enough? How could I have stopped this happening?
It’s not a nice thing to admit as at the risk of causing offence, this sounds weak and pathetic to me.
I have asked many questions to myself and to others after my recent break up. Some ‘weak and pathetic’ and some more practical with potentially helpful answers. Some I have rhetorically asked just to add to my lengthy analysis and some I genuinely felt I needed answers to.
There is one question that I keep asking myself, that no one can answer for me.
Would I do it again?
Was it worth it? The many intense emotions at the end and beyond, the obsessive thoughts and mentally concocted scenarios. The fluctuating feelings, the thousands of constant questions, the exhausting physical states. The grief.
Was it worth everything that I had and everything we had?
Did everything we have together, said to eachother, experienced as us and only us, everyone we cared about together and everything we felt for eachother over our period of time outweigh the hurt of losing it all? Losing it and viewing it all in a different way?
If I’d have known how it would have ended, the effects it would have had and the thoughts and feelings it would leave with me, would I have started it? If I’d have skipped to the last page and peeked at the ending, would things have been different?
The night we met, I could have made the alternate choice to look at his face as I walked out of the door, say “Goodbye, nice to meet you” and walk away. Walk away and lived a different life?
Or would that last page have not mattered? Would nothing else have mattered? The risks would be simply be overridden by the pure excitement, joy and bliss that was there for us in full view. The overwhelming desire and love that overtook all reason. The love that consumed us both.
Does anything else matter when you have the privilege to be part of such a lovely thing and should those wonderful memories be cherished forever?
How can one possibly answer any of this at any time in their lives? The answers would probably be different every day, even every minute. I ask this question for my own curiosity and general wondering and I also ask it for my future.
The whole point of asking the question in the first place: Would I do it again one day? Can I competently acknowledge and make decisions based on the risk that comes with a new person entering my life. That familiar excitement, attraction, curiosity and even true bliss that comes out of the blue. Do I enjoy it and take the prospect of another painful end on the chin? Do I let the risks and insecurities get pushed aside and blocked out by experiencing the pleasures of a new face, new words and a new spark?
If so, is that reckless and irresponsible?
I have experience and outcomes that can help me to protect myself and avoid a similar reoccurrence. Why put myself at risk from a further episode of this pain? Why willingly climb that same ladder that once buckled from under me and caused that very long, hard fall?
I could instead, live a life of comfort, familiarity and certainty. An independent life of control and autonomy. I could sleep at night, without my rest and content state being polluted by my own reactions to other peoples actions and decisions.
Do I spend my life fluctuating between the intense extremes of pleasure and pain or remain at a neutral, easy constant?
On the other hand… I could spend my days ‘going with the flow’ and enjoying what pleasures come my way. I could focus on the present tense and welcome all, that brings happiness into my life, despite the possible routes that my life may take as a result?
This could result in the ability for me to embrace and be grateful for all of the expressions of fondness and love that another person displays for me. That as well as actually reciprocating it with the same amount of passion.
I could look at this person as though I have no past, no pain and start all over again. I won’t remember how those hard days and nights felt and will wonder what it was that made me so full of woe. Why was life so difficult and every decision so complex?
Maybe those memories will even disappear…
But for now, it will have to remain a question.
Maybe one day, I will have the answer(s) and I can read this post back and think “bloody hell Liz, what were you banging on about?”