these many little deaths.

A lot has happened in not-quite-a-year. The long and short of it is I found myself in a relationship, I fell in love, he broke my heart. A sad but familiar tale…and I am still reeling from it.

The first part of my year-long relationship was filled with highs. I felt loved, cherished, wanted and cared for. I resolutely ignored the red flags because there was just so much good. And there truly was…The Guy was so thoughtful and considerate most of the time that I overlooked his reticence to define the relationship, his habit of being triggered by my teasing jokes, and his reluctance to get to know my friends. The second half of our relationship was an emotional rollercoaster filled with really high highs and really low lows. I found myself in a relationship where the physical intimacy had escalated considerably (we fell short of going all the way). I take full responsibility for my part in letting that happen…but…I was in love. And that aspect of our relationship seemed to be the only way we could truly connect (Red flag). Unbeknownst to me, The Guy was having doubts the entire duration of the relationship. Ultimately, he broke up with me (3 days before his birthday and 4 days before our anniversary) because he felt we were too different. He thought my passions in life were shallow. We were vastly different on what we found important in life – he wanted to serve in a grand way and I wanted to affect my inner circle. Something that I had brought up several times and he had reassured me was “no reason to break up”. Oh the irony.

I cried for the whole day when we broke up, and a week later I cried through a more rational conversation on why we were breaking up. I shared my grievances and thanked him for the good times and thought – at least we’ll have ended gracefully.

A month later, he emailed me. He had been thinking about our relationship and wanted to talk. When I emailed back to ask what he wanted to talk about I got a cavalier “just want to see what’s new in your world” reply. This was more painful than the actual breakup. The fact that it seemed he had moved on so quickly tore at my insides. I politely worded an email thanking him for the breakup and for having the courage to do what I couldn’t and that I would be willing to speak to him if he had something he wanted to discuss but that I didn’t think it was healthy to “just say hi” to the man who broke my heart. He succinctly responded with “this was a mistake, I won’t contact you again”. I cried another million tears.

4 months later the scars are still fresh – although I can stare at them without crying all the time. I miss him still. You don’t stop loving someone just because they’ve hurt your or behaved badly. Your heart needs to heal and to patch itself up slowly. I miss his gravelly voice, being able to reach out and feel his scruff. I miss starting and ending my day talking to him and Skype sessions over the weekends. I miss the security I had knowing he found me utterly beautiful even without a stitch of makeup on.

Now I feel like an insecure shell of the person I was in that relationship. I struggle to hold on to that belief and security that who I am matters. He broke something in me by breaking up with me. I feel like perhaps I have nothing worthwhile to offer a man. That I am not interesting or intelligent because I didn’t have a grand vision for my life like he did. I feel stupid for having loved him (and at times, loving him still) even though it was clear he was holding back. I struggle all the more with sexual sin because I am trying to recapture that feeling of being cherished and wanted. Even though he and I “messed up” it was still less than how I feel I am “messing up” now! I feel so far from God – it is a struggle daily to read my Bible and it is even more of a struggle to remain pure of heart and mind. Its as if I am stuck in quicksand and the harder I struggle the more entrenched in the bog I become.

I hold on to the hope that I have in Christ – that he will ultimately be the one to drag me out of this. That there is grace upon grace available to me. I have never felt more undeserving of it. Maybe one day I will wake up and the fog will have cleared.


Disclaimer: at his heart, my ex is a good person. he has some faults (as do I) and there is blame to share for how this relationship progressed. this post is only detailing my side of the story and my own feelings and interpretations of our breakup




“Why are you so down on yourself?” It just burst out of him. He hesitated then apologized for his tone. But he didn’t let it go – “you talk like…you think you’re not beautiful” he said, not knowing he was breaking my heart. Today I leave behind…every demeaning thought I have of myself.

I am too much. Too strong. Too opinionated. No man would ever want a girl that will occasionally cuss like a sailor and tell him when he’s being a dick. (That was mild. Come on now.)

I have riotous curly hair. The kind that looks like it has been electrocuted. A bird’s nest. Hair that looks like a weasel died on top of my head.

I have flab. Stretchmarks, dimples and cellulite and my ass sags more on one side than the other. Yes, I went there.

I dress indecently, especially for God-fearing, church loving men. I am a woman they do not respect.

I am an insecure bundle of nerves and again who would want to be friends with (or more than friends with) someone who is constantly belittling herself or putting herself down?

There. I’ve laid it bare – all this ugliness. Now to “bestow a crown of beauty instead of ashes”. 

I am wonderfully opinionated. I speak my mind and am forthright and honest. One day some sexy man of God (what?!) will see that and will adore that about me. He will thank his lucky stars for having found someone who will not resort to the silent treatment to punish him, for someone who will rationally confront him over any concerns and issues. This does not make me less of a woman.

I have beautifully messy hair. It is sexy and uninhibited (really uninhibited). One day it will be longer and will be even more beautiful than it is now.

My body is soft and inviting (not that kind of inviting. Jeez.). I am a woman. I have dangerous curves and yes a little bit extra here and there but that only makes me more womanly. This body functions. It does wonderful things (walking, running, dancing). I am grateful for it.

I love being a woman. I dress like one. I have been told I have “legs that stop traffic”. Occasionally they make an appearance. That does not make me a whore. That does not make me cheap or easy. I like to showcase my assets but never in a cheap or tawdry way. Only in a way that celebrates my femininity. Most of the time I dress for myself. On rare occasion, I dress for a guy. Hey, it happens and it’s completely normal. I will be sensitive to my brothers’ eyes. I will do my best not to make them stumble. But I cannot please everyone and there will be men that think wearing a miniskirt means you cannot possibly be wife material. I will pray for them. They need it.

I am a normal woman with normal insecurities. But I am an amazing creation of God, fearfully and wonderfully made. I love much and am loved much. Who wouldn’t want to be friends with someone like me?

Today I leave behind what people have said about me. What I have said about myself. Today I will carry who God tells me I am. A work in progress. Imperfect. But beautifully so.