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:
* * *
Daily Post prompt: Gate