My person is gone and I’m shouting until I’m hoarse.

“I wouldn’t even be so mean right now but seriously you are two faced as fuck so fuck off.”

I need to get something off my chest. I spend a lot of time subduing my rage over various things and I think I’m better for it most of the time, but right now, I need to let it out.

I met someone a few weeks back, through a person I thought was a friend, with what I thought was her encouragement. It was a whirlwind. I had butterflies in my stomach that I never expected to feel again. He seemed so sincere. He said things like “I know that we wouldn’t have even met if Ron was still in your life and I know that this is not the life you chose.” And “I won’t take that away from you. My only job here is to try to make you as happy as you once were.”

White knight. Did a number on me. Do you know how hard it has been to reconcile that the chances of meeting someone that will say things like that; that will sit with me and tell me it’s okay to put my rings on my fingers; that will ask me to see pictures and tell them about my life with Ron–that those chances are pretty much slim-to-none? I thought I found a unicorn.

I didn’t.

So here’s what I have to say. To the cold-hearted, sociopathic author of the quote at the top of this post, the person who approached me and told me to back off because her friend “is not [my] person”: do you think I didn’t know that? Do you think that I don’t realize every goddamned day that I lost my person? I wake up with that. I go to sleep with that. There’s not a moment that my mind rests without remembering that. Ron was my person. He always will be. I don’t need a replacement Ron. I don’t need a new person. I don’t WANT a replacement or a new person. My heart is still as attached to Ron as it was when his physical being left this earth. You’re a widow too. Have some fucking compassion.

This is what I want: I want a companion. I want a love that does not take away from my past but embraces it. I want support–it doesn’t have to come in the form of understanding or having traumatic experiences in common and as a matter of fact, I definitely prefer not to have traumatic experiences in common. Don’t share in my misery, just acknowledge my fragility. I want real. I don’t want contrived sympathy and kindness with ulterior motives. Be who you are, unapologetically, and show me who you are from the start. No more of this white knight bullshit.

I’m sorry, future partner (if you are out there), but you will never be “my person”. You will be as close as anyone could come to that, but I had one soulmate. I will love you as deeply as I can, but you will never replace that soulmate. You will have to accept your position in my heart alongside him.

And to the person that lead me to believe that you had the capacity to accept that and then took the fuck off after ripping through my life like a hurricane–you were not a unicorn. You rode in on one, and I hope you fall the fuck off.

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Chelly

Widowed at 26. Blogging about life, death, and everything in-between. #LookTwiceSaveALife #ShareTheRoad #MotorcycleAwareness

2 thoughts on “My person is gone and I’m shouting until I’m hoarse.”

  1. My person died 7 months ago… How I wish I’d stumbled upon your words sooner. But, I guess I finding them when I’m at a place in my life to receive them. I was just sharing with a friend that most probably there is no other person for me in this universe, and that I need to come to terms with that for my sanity sake.
    I know I’m not wired to be un-coupled. I know what I want, need. But, I wonder if there’s anyone who’ll be up to weathering this storm with me?
    I’ll be thinking of you and wishing you well as you navigate this journey…

    Like

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