It has been a couple of months now that a massive tidal wave has brought into my life the one single thing I was expecting the least- love. You know that kind of love that completely sweeps you of your feet and leaves you stupidly grinning at an empty wall in your room during one of the many sleepless nights. That kinda love that moves mountains, stops wars and cures cancer. That one that makes everything shining bright and nothing- quite literally NOTHING- is impossible. That kinda love.
I wanted everyone to know. I wanted everyone to see the reason why I can jump 6 feet high, why I can’t stop smiling and why the battery on my Iphone runs flat every two hours. And I also wanted my parents to stop assuming that me going on holiday with my best friend means we are together (don’t get me wrong I love him with all my might but you know… it’s not THAT kinda love). So I told them.
I told them about Sven. Sven the guy with a tender loving heart. Sven the guy who is 24 years my senior. Sven the guy with two kids my age. Sven the guy who does not exist. Yes -I’m sorry Dad, I’m sorry Mum- Sven isn’t real. I know that at least one of you is immensely relieved and the other one probably very disappointed in me. I’m so truly sorry. It’s just that making up a story about a 52-yo Swede was much easier than telling you the truth.
That I’m in fact dating a married man. Yes – despite everything we have been thru together, despite everything you have been telling me all my life and despite everything I should know by now I have still fallen for somebody who to me – as you Mum used to call it – should be a “dead man” . I could of course now go on and tell you all the right clichés about how “we can’t choose who we fall in love with” and how “this is completely different ” but I’m not going to. Because I had a choice and because this is not different in any way. I knew from the start what I was getting into. And yet I didn’t stop myself.
Because … because quite simply although I was doing wrong it felt so damn right. It felt as if a massive jigsaw of my life has finally been completed. As if I found the last missing piece. None of my past mattered anymore. All of it made sense at last. I finally realised why I could never make it work with anybody else. Because all my life I was meant to meet this one single person, my soul mate, my other half. Who also happens to be somebody else’s half already.
So what do you do when you meet the love of your life? Do you just let them pass by or do you grab your chance and don’t let it go? I thought I knew the answer to that. I thought my childhood would have been enough to give me the strength to walk away with pride. I guess I was wrong. Because the moment I realised I have met the one person I have been looking for I jumped in head first and absolutely nothing could have stopped me. Looking back now knowing what happened next would I have done it differently? No. Never in a million years. Despite the hell dating a married man puts you thru… being with the one person you are meant to be with makes it all worth it.
Of course there comes a point when you just can’t go on like this any longer. You try to understand with your head – and can’t. You try to understand with your heart – and you can’t either. So you know the only way is to go and let go. Have you ever tried to break up with somebody you love ? I know I always say that impossible is nothing but this comes very close. You try, you fail, you try again, you fail again, you pick yourself up, you beg him to do it for you and don’t really mean it… and then at last you wake up one morning and realise that the feeling of sheer happiness that used to fill your heart thinking about him is gone. That all that’s left is the dread of what’s coming next.
“Is today the day he is not gonna call back?”
“Is today the day I lose him forever?”
“Is it all gonna finally end today?”
“Why? Why? WHY?!”
But for some stupid reason you still can’t let go. Is it because you have been given the taste of what the perfect version of your life could be like? Is it because the simple thought of never seeing him again is ripping your insides apart so forcefully you can hardly breathe? Is it because you just can’t imagine ever being able to love like this again? I don’t know … it’s one of those or maybe all of the above what does it matter anyway.
Letting go of your loved one is something I don’t wish on anybody. I have gone thru quite a lot but this is by far the most painful decision I had to ever take. It’s because the part of my soul I found in him has to be torn again and returned to him. And I bleed and hurt and miss that part badly because knowing it exist somewhere out there is much worse than not knowing if I ever find it…
I know this post is probably not what many of you would expect to read… but writing is something that helps me cope with the downsides of life. This post was never written to be published but somehow I feel it has to be in order for me to heal…