A Thank You To The Ones Who Loved Us Wrong (And The Ones Who Tried To Love Us Right)

We often spend days, months, and even years struggling to move on from a lost love. We play the same story over and over again. If only we reacted differently, then love would have never blown up in flames. But what if we needed the flames? What if in those chaotic flames we are reborn? Maybe it is in the flames where we get the chance to leave behind our fragile and exhausted self to live a heart-centered life where we become a passionate, exotic, and free bird.

I know your heart is grieving and I know it is filled with rage, frustration, and constant rumination of the should haves and the would haves.

 I know you have cried countless times in the mirror as you look back at your reflection, softly touching the side of your face and wondering why your best wasn’t good enough. I know you have stared at your body countless times in the mirror as you look back at your reflection, softly touching your belly and wondering why someone would promise to protect you only to leave you. I know you have tasted the salty tears that stream down your cheek as you stand in front of the mirror, wondering why you are so hard to love. 

I see you as you drop down on your knees in complete surrender asking why. I see you in the mornings you wake up calm and the pain slowly seeps into your heart as you close your eyes and all you can see is their eyes. I see you as you attempt to wish them away and you’re invaded even more with their deep brown eyes that cast away sadness and pain. 

I see you when you wake up in the middle of the night and you swear you can feel their arms. The arms that wrapped around you so tightly in fear. Fear that came long before the two of you even met.

I see you when you yell. I see you when you sob. I see you when you’re too tired to cry anymore so you fall asleep with all of the lights on. I see you when you have to remind yourself to smile. I see you when the shadows come to light and all you can feel in your heart is profound rage.

I feel you when you’re still sleeping on the right side of the bed because you did for so long. I feel you when you pour that extra cup of coffee out of habit. I feel you when you reminisce on the nights in the parking lot slow dancing. I feel you when you still keep the windows slightly open even though you used to love to sleep in the pitch dark.

I become you when you finally understand that you will never ever be enough for the wrong people or the wrong person. I become you when you start to embody that losing something or someone in order to make room for something greater is not a loss. 

I become you when, instead of ruminating on being loved the wrong way, you can stop and you can say, “Thank you.” Thank you for loving me wrong. Thank you to the ones who loved me wrong because you opened the door to be loved right. You opened the door to the love that has always been deeply embedded within me but was hidden behind all of the pain, the trauma and the fears. 

Being loved wrong time and time again is our soul begging us to search for the love that is whole and gentle instead of choosing to love from our wounds. 

Being loved wrong time and time again is our soul begging us to taste those salty tears that fall on our cheeks and look in the mirror and say, “I have cried enough tears for all of you. I have no more tears to cry. I’m choosing to move on because I deserve to.” Being loved wrong time and time again is our soul begging us to softly touch our heart and look in the mirror and say, “I am powerful. The right people will listen to me when I speak, but no matter what, I will always speak my truth.” Being loved wrong time and time again is our soul begging us to hold ourselves as we look in the mirror and say, “I got you for life. We are safe in this body.”

Thank you for loving me wrong because now resisting love is no longer easier than surrendering to it. Thank you for disrespecting me because now I know boundaries. Thank you for teaching me how to speak to the moon and the stars because now I know magic. Thank you for keeping me in small boxes because now I know how to fly. Thank you for rolling down your car windows and letting the wind hit my skin because now I know bliss. 

Now I know that love is not a feeling but instead a way of being. A way of speaking. A way of listening. Love is kind. Love is quiet. Love is simple.

Love is walking into a coffee shop and sitting next to an old man who talks to you for an hour about the great love he lost. Love is in the profound silence that moves you to tears. Love is in the intimacy you share with a friend as you lay naked, crying over past lovers. Love is in the way the moon shines brightly in your room, waking you up in the middle of the night. Love is in the way you jump up and down when your sister tells you she’s falling in love. Love is when you pull over to have a snowball fight. Love is in the way you slowly open up your heart again. Love is not always about learning how to fall in love with another person. Sometimes love is learning how to fall in love with love again.

I know all of that simply because I was deeply and profoundly loved by the wrong person.

So for the final time, let us say thank you.

Thank you for loving me wrong. Thank you for trying to love me right. Thank you for letting me go. Thank you for walking away.

Thank you.