You share until it’s all out and there are no words left.
And he lovingly, carefully, slowly and gently, closes the door. In your face.
The cracking of your heart breaks you open and you know you’re about to learn something, gain some kind of clarity because that always happens when your heart breaks. You will feel gratitude and love, but those come later. For now, the indignation and the hurt race in. The only way to move it out is to run.
Damage control arrives and tells your hands to lace up your shoes. Your legs and lungs prepare to move and go fast. Your vision sharpens, the muscles of your chest tighten in protection. They’ll soften again, but for now, guardedness is required. The helping parts arrive to stitch your heart together as you go outside and your feet pound the pavement.
“It doesn’t stop does it?” you think to yourself.
The experience of love and the feeling of your heart breaking all at the same time...
It doesn’t matter how old you get, how much experience you have, when you’re hurt all you can do is run.
The ground supports your feet, and the air moves through your lungs while the fearful parts of your mind say “I told you so. You should’ve kept your mouth shut.”
You don’t regret telling him anything.
It’s not so much about him, but about you and what you didn’t do earlier, the feelings you didn’t share, everything you kept in. It’s about the times you suppressed your desire in favor of whatever he may or may not be feeling. Heaven forbid you step on his toes or let him take responsibility for himself instead of trying to doing it for him.
Cars roar by, the wind whips your hair and the sunshine on your skin reminds you that you are very much alive and having another life experience. Hindsight will one day offer the understanding of what you were to gain and learn from with this interaction.
You remember what running has done for you. You recall running through frustration, anger, elation, happiness and grief. Your body has carried you through life events that would have otherwise broken you into too many pieces to put back together.
You move fast. The burn in your thighs takes your mind away from the ache straining in your chest. You take pleasure in the abundance of oxygen, remembering you are more than this occurrence.
Clarity slips in between your breaths. The things you did and didn’t do come into focus and you know that is where your anger is stemming from. It’s not about his actions but about your inaction mixed with disappointment.
You gaze at the mountains and watch the water as you run alongside it. Your breath is still moving in and out of your lungs. This is your therapy, the atmosphere your sanctuary, and the landscape your stability.
You won’t outrun the feelings banging around in your head, but for now, moving feels so delicious. It feels like accomplishment and achievement. It feels like self-care, ease and love.
Running doesn’t judge where you’re at. It doesn’t care about what is or isn’t coming up for you. Running moves your rage with its steady support. It frees your mind to feel and hear the emotions rushing through you. It is simply glad you’re here.
The only question is, did you show up enough? Not only for the road beneath your feet, but for your feelings, your desire, yourself.