It's been 4 months since we tried to stop talking.
It's been 5 months since I first began to feel it ending.
It's been 1 year since we really started having problems.
This break up has been incredibly easy and so heartbreaking and difficult in completely different ways. I have never experienced the feelings that I have felt the last couple months, but I guess I could describe them as peaceful. I'm at peace with where this ended, how it ended and why it ended.
Justin was my best friend. He is one of the most caring and kindest people I have ever known. He truly cares how his actions could affect, and possibly hurt someone else and he never lets this happen. He has taught me that I should WANT to be a better person, a kinder person, a more compassionate person, a more forgiving person, a more humble person, a deeper person. For that I will be eternally grateful and will never regret my time with him.
PART ONE
I met Justin in 2003 when I was 17 years old. I had been in one previous relationship that was completely detrimental to my well-being as it was manipulative, dysfunctional and damaging. I wasn't quite sure how to date someone. I never thought it would be serious. I thought that this young guy was incredibly cute and was so excited to be called his "girlfriend", I never stopped for a SECOND to think this could really be a long-lasting, important part of my life for years to come. That is why, out of our nearly 7 year relationship, I do not even feel like touching on the first 3 years or so. We were so young and so immature and so childish. It was a complete puppy love we had. Nothing much more intimate came until the second half of the Justin/ Lauryn Saga.
Justin and I were together 2.5 years before we broke up for the first time.
The break up was devastating.
heartbreaking.
earth shattering.
to say the least.
I would lay in my bed and cry for hours into the night, every single night. For months. I would thrash in my bed asking God how he could do this to me. How I could go on. How I could ever live without him.
I remember it now as the saddest time in my life to date. In nearly 25 years, those were the most painful months of my existence. I wish now I could grab my 19 year old self and give her a hug. Tell her everything is going to be okay. She will get through it. She will grow. She will not die.
After a couple months I regained some of my old friends who I had foolishly given up for more time with the boy I loved. As it often does, my friendship dwindled as I connected closer and closer to Justin. I found happiness in myself with him, or I thought I did. I could ONLY find happiness with him. I didn't know how to find it on my own. What pressure for a person to bear-- someone else's happiness. The pressure would be too much for anyone to bear. A person can only find happiness in others once they find happiness in themselves. And here I was, 2.5 years later. Alone. Without friendships. Without a boyfriend. Without Justin. Without happiness.
Lindsay and I started to see each other again and our friendship flourished as we both went through life-changing break ups. We leaned on each other for support, connected through a very painful time in our lives. I felt like no one understood me like she did because she knew how bad we both were hurting, how much we felt we had lost. We never stopped being friends after that.
PART TWO
Justin and I got back together after 3 months of being split up. I was still friends with his family, especially his mother. She was truly one of the closest friendships I have ever had. In the beginning, I think I leaned on her for friendship and support because she could connect me to this boy I loved who didn't love me anymore. But it became so much more than that. It came a beautiful friendship, that much later on would go through some difficult times. I remember the night Justin and I first got back together. I had just gotten to her house after she called me to say Justin was gone for the night. I was excited to share stories of a boy I had just met two nights prior and who I was falling head over heels for...quickly. He didn't even live in America, but I couldn't get him off my mind. And like it so commonly happens, Justin and I got back together one night later. Justin decided to come home after learning I was there. He came in the living room and talked to me, told me he missed me, rubbed my back, kissed me. And just like that, our relationship started back up the very next day. I had lost weight, I had dyed my hair black, we had more passion in our relationship but we were still the same Lauryn and Justin. The same kids jumping back into something built on attraction and passion and not on common grounds.
This time around, I can't even remember how long we dated. Before the next break up that is. Maybe a year? Maybe 2? Regardless, we were back together and we were happy. But we were also pained. It was hard to move past the idea that there had been others, that we hadn't always been thinking of each other, that we already failed once. Insecurities arose that had never been a part of our relationship. Feelings of hurt that couldn't always be kept under the surface. That peered their ugly heads at the most random of times and would eventually lead to the demise of our relationship.
All I know is we broke up again.
It was for 6 months this time.
I was living with Ashley and Justin and I were constantly arguing. Constant irritation at my insecurities by both him and myself. I knew he had chosen to be with me again, so why did I feel like the rug could be pulled out from under me at any given moment?
Because it could.
And it did.
This break up was a bit different. We still talked and hung out but we just didn't want (and by WE I mean HE) the titles of boyfriend/girlfriend. For 6 months we carried on like this. Single lives when we wanted to feel that way, and romantic lives if we wanted to feel that way for a night or a day. We kissed other people, we kissed each other. We still loved each other, or did we?
Finally I let go. For good. Or so I thought. I told him I was done.
2 weeks later he got in a very bad streetbike accident and his family called me to come to his bedside.
I dropped everything, once again.
PART THREE
Justin woke up out of surgery and I was there. I always was. How could I not be? He needed me right? I wouldn't let him go a day in pain without knowing I was right there next to him. That was our connection. Not the relationship, not the family, not the 2 dogs we raised together. It was our love and care for each other. I still wonder to this day if I were to be in an accident if he would be there. And most likely not. Not because he wouldn't care about me. But I don't think my family would think to call him. They know how different our lives are now. And I'm not sure why I would want them to call him.
Justin was in a wheelchair for months. He had to have surgery on his knee. Turns out he was doing a wheelie on his streetbike. Infuriating. Look at all the people so scared for his safety. (In other news, my S just broke off my keyboard. This post is not gonna be fun.)
I nursed Justin back to health. I loved him, cared for him, fed him, gave him sponge baths. I became his wife and his girlfriend and his mother all in one week. I went from being single to all these things in days. I don't think he ever truly appreciated how difficult this was on me. How much I felt I was expected to do. How little I thought of myself or my needs. He may never really understand.
Again, I don't remember how long we were together this time. All I know is that it was a hard time-- he lost his motorcycle, money was tight, I'm not sure if he had a license or insurance at this point. It was a mess. And like messes always do, it came crashing down at some point.
And for the third time we were broken up.
PART FOUR
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. What about fool me four times? That is some serious shame.
Things were never the same, they never could be. Impossible. How many times can you break up and make up and still feel good about yourself? I am losing track of time frames in my head trying to put together the pieces of how many times we have broken up and got back together. Or why we broke up? Or how he told me? Or where we were when it happened. It happened so many times, the memories fuse together.
All I know is we broke up for 8 months this time. He moved out with some guy friends, I lived at home. We did our own thing for a long while. After about 4 months, we started hanging out again, but we weren't getting back together. We just missed each others company and really did have a love between us we were unable to let go at times. Towards the last month of our break up, two things happened. Two things that don't exactly quite work out together, but still happen to clash often.
I decided to move to San Diego
and
Justin and I started getting close again.
Uh.Oh.
I went to New York with my friend Nicole in August of that year. We had an incredible week and we were looking forward to much needed girl time. Unfortunately, things don't always work out how we planned.
The first night there was wonderful. We had so many plans on the excitement we would endure the days to follow. But that next morning, I woke up and heard an awful message on my voicemail instructing me to call Justin's mom. I called her and she was in panic and tears as she told me Justin had been in a serious accident, once again. My first thought was that he was dead. He had died, the boy I loved, who never knew, who always knew, Should I have done something? Before I could think anymore, she gave me more news. Good and Bad. He was alive, hurt but alive. In jail. He had been in an accident that involved alcohol and hurt his friend. And they blamed Justin.
Now this is a while other time in my life I don't quite feel like focusing on right now, so I'll move forward and tell you that like things seem to have been going for me, Justin and I got back together. All the freedom, all the independence, gone, out the window. I was thrown back into this wife/girlfriend/mother state in a matter of days. Again.
But I loved him SO much! More than anything. More than myself.
The two years after that is where my new story really begins. We got back together right after the accident and our next year was full of court, jail, possible lost friendships, pain, suffering, guilt, depression, and lastly, my constant need to tie him down.
I knew he would leave again. Isn't that how the story has always played out? Look at our track record.
I needed marriage. I craved it. I HAD TO HAVE IT.
I needed to know that If I was going to lose myself in him again, than I needed to be married to him.
But wait! Why would I want to lose myself in him? Why would I want to lose myself at all?
Because I loved him more than I loved ME.
I cared about his happiness more than I cared about mine.
I knew he was going to jail. I knew I would be waiting around for him. I didn't care. I wanted him. Needed him. And he needed me. In some ways, it was nice to know I was needed. That all he could do was think about how he loved me. He HAD to appreciate me for this! Right?? Well...one thing I have learned. Never do anything for anyone just so you can have satisfaction of them owing you something- love, thankfulness, appreciation. Because if you don't get the amount you expect, you feel cheated. Like you did so much work and got none in return. It's a horrible feeling and creates a horrible, vindictive, evil person.
That's what I became.
THE FINAL CHAPTER
When Justin went to Jail things were okay. I expected to be lonely, but if anything I felt like I had MORE of his attention than I ever had. I felt more loved and more appreciated by him while he was gone. Looking back, it makes me so sad to think about. I wanted him home so bad but him not being with me and feeling destitute and alone was creating this dream man-- who wrote me letters, who expressed his love in ways I never knew were possible, who called me, who cried for me, who really LOVED me. I thought when he got home we would run off into the sunset and marry. I thought he imagined these things too. We did talk like we both dreamed of this same picture. But he was gone. He must not have been thinking clearly. I could have kept those letters for the rest of my life but someone forced me to part with them, and I decided it was best.
That man was only on paper. I still haven't found the real version.
Justin came home and I expected love, passion, intimacy, marriage. NOW NOW NOW! I had no patience. We had gone through the most difficult thing I thought we could ever go through so lets make this official NOWWWWWWWW!
I must have been a crazy person. I didn't care about the ring. I didn't care about ANYTHING! I just wanted him. Now. Forever. He got out of jail on July 19th. Somehow I thought he would propose in October. That would be October 2009. I thought that would give us the perfect amount of time to plan a wedding by 10/10/10, the day we had always called our own. From the first year I met Justin, regardless of our yo-yo relationship, I thought I would marry him. And we always planned on 10/10/10. At least I did. To be honest, I'll never know what he planned.
That day came and went. It was a nice day, lovely, but the entire day I hoped for a proposal. When it didn't come, I couldn't help but feel a little angry. Sad. Let down.
Thanksgiving came and went. Christmas came and went. New Years Eve came and went. And everyday, I would think that this was the one! I don't know why I put myself through this torture. I know understand Justin is the kind of person who would never do it on a major holiday, but still my heart skipped an extra beat on those days.
When the day was over, my naked ring finger reminded me of what I didn't get. My text messages asking "did he do it??" reminded me of what I didn't get. Just looking at him made me mad at him. Poor guy didn't stand a chance.
My birthday came and went. Valentine's day came and went. My birthday was the worst, I knew I was getting a big surprise and I did when he took me to Disneyland! It was a wonderful day, but when after a full day at the "most happiest (and romantic) place on earth" , I began to understand I wasn't going to get it.
On the way home, when Justin fell asleep and I drove, I cried a little bit. I cried because I felt so guilty. He had taken me on this wonderful trip, planned something he never, ever does, tried so hard. So why did I feel slighted? Why was I disappointed? Because my damn hopes were up too high. They always were.
In March, things took the turn for the worst and between March and the end of June, our break up, were the worst times for me in our entire, nearly 7 year relationship. I was starting to get depressed. Seriously depressed. I was gaining weight, stopped taking care of myself, crying almost daily about why I love someone so much who I don't even see saving up money for a ring for me (he had bought an almost $800 camera that he really needs, but regardless....that could have been my ring.) I was so lost. Therapy wasn't helping, we weren't getting anywhere. I tried being patient. He asked me to give him a couple months.
I think the hardest thing of all was people's reactions. People would ask me at work DAILY when I would get married to him. I could have made a joke or not let it get to me, but I said "Next year" and believed it. I got shit all the time. I remember one night at a bar, someone told Justin that he needed to put a ring on my finger, after freaking almost 7 years. I was embarrassed. I cried the whole home. And he cried. And it was probably one of our saddest fights ever.
Here we are fighting over MARRIAGE. Shouldn't we want this? Marriage is about love. I was forcing marriage. He didn't want it nor believe in it. And still I thought I could love him so much I could change his mind.
Sometimes love just isn't enough.
Needless to say, we ended things in the end of June. He said we needed to "reboot" our system before it crashed. I knew it had already crashed. And I knew it couldn't be rebooted. It was time to live without a computer for awhile and one day get that new one.
I miss his friendship. I miss his humor. I miss him fixing things around the house. I miss seeing him with my dog. I miss wrestling and joking around with him. I miss his family. I miss feeling like a close little family with someone. I miss his spontaneity. I miss him as my friend.
I don't miss our fights. I don't miss the fact that we couldn't find a common ground. I don't miss that we had different views on marriage. I don't miss feeling insecure and anxious. I don't miss constantly feeling on the verge of losing it all. I don't miss giving myself up for anyone else.
So that is why I can still love the man that broke my heart four times. Why I will always care for him and all he has taught me. And who knows, maybe deep down I broke his heart too and am just unaware of it. All I know is it's time to find ME. Who I am meant to be and who I would be without a guy in my life.
I don't think about this often and I have never wrote these feelings down. But in honor of our approaching 7 year faux anniversary and the day I thought I would become his wife, Its been on my mind often.
I am moving next Fall to SF and it scares me. It reminds me of getting ready to move to San Diego, when I dropped everything for a boy. What if I would do it again? I know I would do it again. I know I could love again and drop everything for a boyfriend. How can I keep it from happening with any guy? I guess to be on the safe side, I don't let myself fall for anyone again. Not for a year anyways. But is that possible? Only time will tell.
People come and go. All people. Family. Friends. Lovers. The only person you ever will truly have is yourself and your beliefs, for me that is God.. And then your gone and hopefully you will have had everything you needed.
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