All of my past relationships share one common moment.
Not butterflies before the first kiss, or when your stomach drops the first time someone tells you they love you.
I’m talking about the moment when I’ve realized that it’s over. Maybe not today, maybe not this week, maybe not even this year. But it’s over, or it will be.
Sometimes there are signs leading up to this moment. Messages that get left on read. Plans that fall through. More time spent apart.
Other times, it happens out of nowhere. Regardless of how it happens, it always feels the same.
The energy is different. Something has fundamentally shifted. What was once blissful and effortless is now tense and uncomfortable. You feel out of place.
The cocoon of trust that you had built with that person is now gone. And despite how much you told yourself to keep things casual, or that you don’t want anything serious, you couldn’t help but want to emerge as a butterfly just this once.
In the past, I’ve tried to ignore this moment.
I’ve pushed it away. Convinced myself I’m overthinking things. Given someone the benefit of the doubt too many times. Tried to fix something that cannot be repaired. But I’ve realized that wishing this moment away only makes things more painful down the road.
So this time, I faced that moment head on. The moment I felt it, I spoke it into existence with my partner. I gave him the opportunity to tell me I was wrong, to tell me there had been some terrible misunderstanding.
But he didn’t.
So I cried and I kissed him and I said goodbye, knowing that things would never be the same.
So here I am, grieving what couldn’t have been, and then I’ll be done. I’m not going to spend weeks torturing myself, waiting and wishing and hoping my gut is wrong (spoiler: it never is).
I will trust in that moment. Trust in its finality. And I will get over it.
And as one thing comes to an unexpected and sad end, I will breathe life into something new. Today is the day I manifest the next chapter. See you in March, Cartagena.