It's A Strange Thing To Fall In Love With Someone You Have To Leave

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It's A Strange Thing To Fall In Love With Someone You Have To Leave

It's a strange thing, to have fallen in love with someone you must leave.

To lay in bed at night and miss his arms around you, fingers smoothing your hair. "This is magic," you would purr to each other.

This is magic.

But then he is throwing a glass of bourbon at your head on your wedding night. He splashes you with bathwater again and again screaming.

You standing there, a new bride.

Dripping wet and wondering how someone who loves in one moment can also be this way.

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So you love harder. And deeper. And softer. And you make moments, beautiful moments of laughter and love and magic.

You learn to make yourself smaller. So he feels safe.

But no amount of anything you give keeps you safe from the rage when it rears its head.

And so, no matter how much you know it's brokenness and trauma, a survival response, a scared soul.

No matter how much you wish to work together to create a space of peace and security and this love-like-magic, you see that no matter how many good moments, the fear of red-hot backlash hangs over every one.

And before long, you realize, you can't trust any of the moments.

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Because there are words.

And there are actions.

And when the words and actions don't match, there is just you, using your body as a human elastic, tied in knots; trying to keep it together, trying to pretend you don't also need to feel safe.

It turns you weary and wears you out, these hundred heartbreaks.

What I am learning:

When you create safe spaces to fall, you deserve safe spaces to fall.

And the funnysad thing is, it means leaving the safety of hopes, the warmth of arms you believed would be there for you.

Lying in bed at night and missing all it was supposed to be. Missing his voice. The way he'd make you laugh. The way that dimple made you melt. The way his promises made you believe.

You are left to pick up the pieces. You who hates housekeeping left standing with shards of a broken heart.

It is midnight and you are laying in bed.

Wrap your arms around you. Allow the ache of what life is.

Hold your soft belly and whisper: I will love you.

It's a strange thing, falling in love with someone you must leave.

Learning that love you gave and gave again ... was also meant for you.

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Brooke Lark is a recovering overacheiver turned minimalist chef & healthy lifestyle simplist. Purveyor of sex food. Photographer, cookbook writer, mama, earthling. Find her @brookelark on Instagram.

This article was originally published at Instagram. Reprinted with permission from the author.