Emotional tears contain toxins. Let them out. Let love in.
Never deny the flow of tears. Studies say that emotional tears contain toxins and releasing them removes such bad chemicals from your body. Whoever studied this phenomenon was right. After my last trip to L.A. (I’m in the process of moving there full-time for good), I spent several days just weeping. Thank God I’m on holidays for the rest of June because I could not stop. Honestly, I didn’t want to. It was time to let the tears really flow. Now that my eyes are dry again, I am writing about the experience that broke my heart for the last time, because I deserve to be free of it once and for all. Basically, I’m declaring my independence from ever being impacted and thinking about it ever again.
My intention is that I’ll never shed tears over a certain experience again. Between praying to have nothing but apathy in my heart, embracing new moments, and rationalizing why feeling how I did was foolish, I truly want to be done. There is truth to what writer Jane Garapick of Gettingtotruelove.com said to me via twitter: It's always us - the believers, the feelers. When we finally fall, we fall hard. She is absolutely right. In my case, it was just that.
The story of what happened is familiar to my friends and I’ve written about it. Writing is a form of therapy and between the facts and fiction of my romantic rejection, the core of how I felt, was sorrow. Someone took away an icon of romantic hope and now I’m embarking on finding a true love from a place of reality. Usually I forget about someone in a month, maybe two, but not this time. For whatever reason, the incident pressed a wound that needed healing, a wound from a long time ago.
Never be someone’s second choice. Either be first or nothing at all. Even worse is to be the runner-up in the dating game. While I am advocate of seeing several people at a time until the real one shows up, I’m not a fan of men or women using their dates as comparison shop items. I am not saying that this is what happened to me. Simply that his actions left me feeling like an item that was left on the shelf for being defective. In an ideal world I wouldn’t ever give another human being the ability to determine my value, but I did fall hard. For someone so cautious it’s tough when my shield goes down and I’m stabbed in heart metaphorically speaking.
So what did he do exactly? For one thing, I can’t recall being attracted to someone for their looks, personality, intelligence, humor all at once and in equal measure. Either a man was “hot” but ugly inside or average-looking yet had such an intense inner Adonis that he was “all that”. Never before did it happen that someone attracted me inside out the way this man did. He can’t help his effect on me.
However, what he did do was Google me, study the results of my numerous writings, and utilize the data of my public digital footprint to construct a personality profile of me. Armed with that information, he presented himself in such a way that it seemed like he understood me and had similar interests as I. The most compelling thing he did, was discover the story of how a psychic once predicted the man I would end up with, whom I described as “Captain America” based on the characteristics the seer saw.
Did he know the moment he did that it would mean he would capture my entire heart? If so, his brush off a few days later that he had been seeing someone else and it was getting serious, so he was going to pursue that … felt like knife twisted in every chamber of my heart. If he didn’t know the effect it would have, well, then it was just a lesson from God to forget everything the psychic ever said to me. Whatever the truth may be, Captain America, an idea of a man who would be “just for me”, is utterly gone. Now I’m standing in faith without being able to rely on that long ago reading.
Some say there is probably just another who fits the description of Captain America even better. Maybe. For now, I’m grieving the loss of the idea of the man in the psychic prediction. I''m telling my ego that it’s not the end of the world that I was rejected, and soothing my heart with Yoga. I’m not angry at this man for what he did. His actions, in the end, do not trigger anger in me. Believe it or not, I still hope he is OK especially after watching certain stories on the evening news. No, it’s not about carrying a torch but refusing to be bitter because of him. I won’t give him the victory of expending negative energy over him. Anger only keeps me “bonded” or tied up emotionally in a past and long gone fleeting moment in my life. As unsettling as his behavior was it could have been much worse. I wasn’t exploited or harmed. A broken heart is an opportunity to grow after all.
In the wake of my “Captain America” telling me that he choose a Miss USA contender, I took the hurt and honored it, and decided that my “love map” or “love GPS” needed an upgrade. My “love picker” was operating at the quality of a Pontiac and it was time to be at the level of a Mercedes Benz. I couldn’t do it alone so I sought out tools and resources to get to a place to only be attracted to the right man who would respect me as a person first and foremost.
Had I been possessed of truly being in love with myself (not to be confused with narcissism) I would never have noticed this man, never been attracted to him, nor attracted someone that was the perfect person to tell me that I wasn’t “good enough” compared to another woman. A very specific type of woman at that, the one whom all the boys wanted in High School, whilst I was the textbook ethnic ugly duckling that didn’t exist to them. He was a manifestation of my self-rejection who mirrored all the beliefs inside me that I was less than other women in the dating market.
My subconscious was the real culprit who betrayed me. It somehow oriented me to seek and find the very type of man who probably fit the ideal demographic of the typical Maxim male reader to hit me with his best shot. His words packed a punch. He might as well have told me that unless I was on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, I wasn’t a female he worth noticing, much less even being capable of attracting a man. Harsh but clearly my unconscious mind needed a revamp.
So who were the love angels that repaired and restored my broken heart and defective dating style? The list is endless but here are some of the people who helped me heal and grow: Debi Berndt, Heather Strang, Matthew Hussey, Jane Garapick, Lisa Iverson, Dr. Rick Moss, Cinthia Dennis, Merry Wise, the writings of Gabrielle Bernstein, Danielle LaPorte, and Christine Arylo, Dr. Margaret Paul’s Inner Bonding Work, The Dailey Love roster of experts, and my acupuncturist Catherine Herbin. Like I said, there are many more people and writings that came my way that all screamed at me with the same remedy: self-compassion, self-care, authentic self-respect and confidence.
No more Pontiac. Mercedes-Benz all the way.