In life, there are different kinds of people, those who love, those who play and those who don’t feel. But one common thing amongst us all is that there is a point in life where we lose the most precious thing to us and we have to endure that sickening pain within us, or for others, let the pain and shame consume us and form hollow, dead but living creatures out of us. The question is, what next, do we continue to feel sorry for ourselves or do we move on? Am a fighter, I definitely pick moving on. I have a really lovely sister, one who loves with all her heart. I never was the emotional one between us, or so I thought (I don’t know if am laughing or crying now), she always got hurt because of how much she loved, or trusted. Often the society took advantage of her kind heart. I would try reason with her and ask her to take it slow. I told her “usiingiange box na miguu zote” (For lack of a better statement- don’t fall madly in love). She once told me, “Mirriam, there is one day you will fall in love and you will get your heart broken and trust me you will not like it. So today, do unto other what you want them to do to you.”
Fast forward, April 2016, I finally met him, tall, handsome, brown eyed, that body build… everything was perfect, he was like my personal teddy bear, in his arms I was safe, he literary took away the nightmares I had, (story for another day though). I didn’t hesitate to let everyone know he was mine, you know us women, and how we get when it comes to territories. Then again, being the campus girl I was, I felt like I was too young to settle down, I wanted it both ways, secure my man and still flirt around, attend parties, get high, but you can never have it both ways. So I finally lost him, he had to walk away, he had given me too many chances and I kept on giving him a reason why I did not deserve these chances. This time around, I knew there was no going back, he was at his last straw, he was too calm, it was like he was gone already.
It felt like my heart had been ripped out of my soul in a second, our journey had finally come to a standstill and this time round, I knew there was no going back. I had screwed up, and for a moment, I felt like even he knew it too; this time we couldn’t really recover. I had killed the last shred of trust he struggled to have in me. I felt my soul slowly slip out of my living body. The pain was too immense, for someone who said I couldn’t cry, I struggled to walk home with balancing tears in my eyes, then bore out my heart on my pillows, the shaking was uncontrollable, I couldn’t breathe well, my hands were trying hard to play the role of a fan and a comforter at the same time. Breaking up with someone you built your future around cannot really be explained. It is like they just died in your arms, and you no longer can feel their presence, yet they are there. Heart breaks are painful, because this time, aside from the feeling that they are gone, you will constantly have to see them happy in another one’s arms, and by all means put a fake smile on your face and congratulate them on how far they have come, or tell them how happy you are for them. Deep inside though, you will be crumbling to tiny pieces, breaking down and losing the last roll of cool that kept you going, because you cannot believe you actually lost the only man or woman who made you be you, with whom you did not have to hide in front of or pretend to be perfect. But guess what, our actions have consequences, the best we can do is swallow the bitter pill, get well and move on.
On that fateful day, in my own crazy mind, I felt like I needed to go out, get high, get drunk. Those were the typical solutions to campus life. But for once I stopped and gave it a really long thought, I was trying to be unique, so why was I opting for typical acts? So what would getting high solve? Would he come back if I got drunk? What about the little ones that looked up to me, what example was I setting for them? Finally made a resolve, I knew who I wanted to do. I would stay home, scribble a few notes in my diary, write a post my blog, go to church, in short, be the woman I always wanted to be in my fantasies, then maybe, that way, he would not have to constantly wonder if I messed up again. He at least would be at peace knowing that I learnt the hard way, finally straightened my acts and became the empowered woman he said I was deep down. I thank him, even if I never say it to him, he made me the woman I am, and the one am working hard to be- ambitious, focused, successful but submissive and greatest of all, God fearing. I moved on from my heartbreak and turned out to be a better person.
Hey- It is never that simple, but at the same time it is not impossible, it’s a healing process that only becomes a reality if you are committed. You can do it too, alternatively, you can avoid the hurt all together, treasure whatever you have, be committed, you never know when tables will turn and you have to live with memories only.

0 replies

Leave a Reply

Want to join the discussion?
Feel free to contribute!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *