A thank you to my ex

I have playlists for men in my life with which I have had a significant romantic connection. So far, I have three.

When I listen to the playlist of the man that caused me so much pain and doubt for five years, I can only think of how much I have grown through that period, and afterwards. I look at the progression of songs:

from the first songs he sent me, so full of hope and young love —

to the songs I listened to one year in, so full of pleading, asking him to stop the hurt —

to the bittersweet songs that I played for him as I let him go, slowly and lovingly.

My playlist for him has evolved; but then again, so have I.

* * *

I started this blog while I was with him. In fact, he is the reason I started this blog. The first words I typed in were efforts to be understood by the world at large — if he couldn’t understand me, then maybe someone else out there would.

Eventually, they became words that felt healing to me, like a cool salve that I applied to wounds that were there before even him. I communed with my past through my words, and through this process, turned myself inside out. It was painful, but joyful. I relived my trauma every time my fingers flew across my keyboard. Through this blog, I’ve written about him, about other loves, but mostly, about myself — and that’s what I have needed the most.

And because of this, I want to thank him for being the gateway to this world of catharsis; for being the initial struggle I had to overcome before I truly got to the hard stuff; for necessitating this blog that accepts my beautiful and my ugly.

* * *

Here are three songs
dedicated to each phase of our love:

The budding romance;

The suffocating love;

The ebbing breakup.

* * *

ts


Daily Post prompt: Gate

A trail of dirt — and other messes we leave behind

I left a mess, and fixed it. A little bit.

* * *

I was on my way to work this morning with my potted plant nested in my arm. Its new home was to be my cube.

And as I walked down the hill, I noticed I was slowly leaving little sprinkles of dirt on the sidewalk — it was icing on this cakewalk, I guess. My arm had been pushing into the plastic pot, creating all sorts of mischief on the dirt inside, pushing it out of the drain holes every time I moved.

I quickly switched my plant’s position on my arm so that I wasn’t pushing into it. At least now, dirt will still leak out, but not as much. Messes will always happen, but we can at least stymie the damage.

I looked behind me, and saw my little trail — the mess is less from now on, and I will still have soil left for my plant to grow.

* * *

dirt for plant


Daily Post prompt: Soil