The parachute is opening and I will not fall. The last few weeks have been heartbreaking, confusing, hurtful. It’s been one huge emotional rollercoaster. We have both said out loud that it’s over. Now it’s just the getting out part thats hard. How do you disect a four year relationship and decide who’s is what when in reality the only things you know that belong to you were the stuff from your past. But what about the stuff you got together? My lovebird painting that he got me for christmas is coming with me. The dishes I bought are staying. Forks and knives are staying. The crockpot I got for my birthday is staying. The vacuum is staying. My dirt devil is coming with me. These are the things that have maybe brought us together. Gifts to and from.

Saying goodbye is never easy but I know that time will heal all of my wounds. Maybe not completely, but someday all I’ll have left is a little scar. Something to look back on and remember – and depending on how nicely things end will be the memories I keep with me. To look back on and remember fondly, or to look back with hatred and distrust. I know now, that I could never be with someone from another culture. It’s not that I am racist, but rather that I don’t like being left out. Language barriers annoy me. Family that doesn’t talk to you like you exist, that annoys me. Someone who can’t tell me about their day, you guessed it, annoys me.

But I also learned something about myself. I spent all of this time morphing into a person who somehow got their spine ripped out. I don’t stand up for myself. I let others walk all over me. I talk about these dreams and hopes and yet I never work to achieve them. Is this his fault? Maybe a little. Self-degrading, self-loathing. Never leaving the house – being couped up all the time…together. Even those in healthy relationships need time a part for a little while. If my next guy wants to play football with the guys on the weekends, hey it suits me, as long as I get to do something I enjoy during the week. I’ve learned never to depend on someone else for everything. I need to be self-sufficient. No one will ever hold above my head again that they’ve paid all of the bills. No one will ever tell me that I can’t put the air conditioning on 73 degrees again.

I know that in about a week I’ll be completely out of this place. I’ll have left behind two cats and a dog, but gained something so much more. I have figured out what I don’t want – now it’s time to figure out what I do want and what will make me happy. I’m afraid that I’ll be alone for ever, but in the same respect I feel an “I don’t care when it happens.” Someday, somehow I hope that someone will find me (or vice versa) and we can be happy. Someday, right?

I know now that sometimes those jumps are for the better and the parachute will open and I will land on the bottom unscathed. And sometimes I know I’ll get bruised and broken along the way. But I’ll always be me.