Growing up is hard
I feel too deeply, or I feel nothing at all. I moved in with the love of my life in January. In February, I quit a toxic job that was killing me mentally. But I didn’t find a new job until last week, and I don’t start it until two weeks from today.
In those 8 months, I’ve lost myself. I’ve smiled less. I’ve laughed less. I’ve lost the joy and naive optimism that makes me, me. My partner has supported us completely, and that’s drained him as well. We went from being bright-eyed lovers with the world at their feet to roommates struggling every day to get by. The spark, gone. The freedom and flexibility that allowed our love to grow and change, gone. It’s been brutal. It’s been heartbreaking to know I saved part of my self at the expense of quite literally everything else.
We had the worst fight of our relationship yesterday. This morning, he told me he was leaving to stay with family for a few days. I was broken. I couldn’t be in the house. I couldn’t face how far we’d fallen from the happy, joyful, passionate couple we once were. I wandered aimlessly around Manhattan, avoiding going home.
At the end of my day, I sat in Union Square. I saw a man holding a “free hugs” sign and watched for a while as people came and went, some hugging him with smiles on their faces, some ignoring him completely. I finished my coffee and decided, “I think I need a damn hug.”
I walked up and I hugged this man. I hugged him hard, and long, and tight. And I didn’t realize how badly I’d needed it until I started sobbing.
And after that hug, I got on the train home and I spent time with my partner. And I started to try and rebuild everything I’d broken.
Sometimes, a hug makes all the difference.