I combed my wet hair as thoughts of my friend’s divorce filled my head. I felt that familiar tug in my chest – a deep empathetic sadness – one perhaps only someone who has walked in those shoes can feel so richly.
As the voice in my head wondered, “When will they go public and how will they present the news? Will they change their status to ‘divorced” on Facebook and have a lot of comments like my ex did? Or go my route and just change their relationship status to ‘Ask’ and keep that divorce date to themselves and a few loved ones?”
BAM! A loud crash followed by the sound of breaking glass.
I screamed and saw in the mirror that my English Patient framed poster had fallen off the wall, behind my shoe rack. Now I was sad for another reason. I walked over, afraid to assess the damage. I read the tagline: “In love, there are no boundaries.”
Not only did I not want to pull the shoe rack out to see the broken glass at the bottom, but moreover, I had NOT wanted to connect my thoughts with the simultaneous crash. That somehow this message, this movie about what we do for love (he leaves her behind in a cave to seek medical help for her only to return to her dead body later) was somehow WRONG. That maybe love DOES have boundaries.
I stood there for a long moment, sorting out my feelings. My blink reaction was that love is not always enough to make things work out the way you want or need them to. That certainly our relationships must have some boundaries – and also deal breakers – to create a healthy partnership and for being true to what works for you.
I knelt down and picked up the hanger off the floor. Even though it was the same hanger that had held up the frame for the last ten years, it couldn’t hold itself up anymore. Sometimes things that seem secure still break.
I held my breath and scooted the picture out from the wall. The sound of breaking glass is unmistakeable and I was sure it had splintered on at least one corner. I could barely believe my eyes.
There they were. Two hotties kissing with not so much as a shard of broken glass around them. Honestly, I can’t explain what I’d heard and I’m thankful it landed on carpet, but then I realized maybe (besides earthquakes shaking things around here) that it could’ve just meant I was supposed to write about this, which is something that has been on my mind a lot the past two years.
It’s important to still believe in love after heartbreak. Yes, we need time to heal and sort out the emotional blow that comes with heartache. Yet on the other side of the complete shit storm of heartbreak is that a rainbow will finally fucking emerge and it will be so damned beautiful that we will wonder why we ever lost hope that the love we were seeking was ever impossible or out of reach.
I’m a believer. Are you?
To living in the deep,