Say Something

I heard this song for the first time today in my car, and it made me reflect on where I am today and where I've been.

When my (then) boyfriend was getting ready to leave last summer, I told him how much I loved him, how much I believed in him, and I told him that if he ever felt he was able to offer what I was asking him for, to please let me know:

Say something, I'm giving up on you.
I'll be the one, if you want me to.
Anywhere, I would've followed you.
Say something, I'm giving up on you.

He agreed, and then he left. And I began the long grieving process that included grappling with the really difficult feeling that everything I thought I knew to be true might not be true after all:

And I am feeling so small.
It was over my head
I know nothing at all.

I definitely felt small. And over my head:

And I will stumble and fall.
I'm still learning to love
Just starting to crawl.

I chalked it up to the fact that it was the first time I really loved somebody with every part of my being. Maybe I just didn't understand that it was possible to do that and not have it work out, even if you tried everything in your power to make it work:

Say something, I'm giving up on you.
I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you.
Anywhere, I would've followed you.
Say something, I'm giving up on you.

For a while I tried being in touch with him, but then I reached a point where I just couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't keep actively wanting something so much that I couldn't have, even if it seemed like the most unnatural thing in the world to give it up:

And I will swallow my pride.
You're the one that I love
And I'm saying goodbye.

I did say goodbye, and in doing so, I gained access to some deeply held grief about being abandoned and a whole lot of anger about not getting the love I needed -- in my childhood, in my marriage -- and even, as hard as it was to fathom, from the person who allowed me to fully love for the first time:

Say something, I'm giving up on you.
And I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you.
And anywhere, I would have followed you.
Oh-oh-oh-oh say something, I'm giving up on you.

I was sorry I couldn't get to him, but I didn't give up on him. I gave up on needing to tie myself in knots in order to make us work. I gave up on the concept that he was the only person I ever wanted to or could ever love or be loved by in that way.

It sucked, but I did it.

Say something...

And then he did. Say something. He said missed me, loved me, wants to be with me. He said he was willing to work on the things that I'd realized weren't working for me when we were together.

And I felt, well, a lot of things, but most of all, relief: that I can trust myself, my feelings, my body, my intuition. That I know what's up, and I have, the whole time...