My relationship is over. I don’t want it to be but it is.
I hoped that we could talk about things and work through the issues we had.
I hoped he would do all he could to rectify his wrong and make things right again…but he didn’t. And now, my relationship is over.
And this isn’t one of those 2-month relationships wrought with puppy love and no strings attached. Where neither one of you had really cut off ties to the other people you were just “talking” to.
No. This was a 20 year, high school sweetheart, 4 kids-between-us relationship. The kind where no matter what, we are going to be in each other’s lives until we die.
I want to cry. Curl up in my bed and eat chips and cookies while watching my favorite movies on repeat. I want to.
I want to call my best friend and rant and rave about what he did. Get advice about what to do next.
I wish I could. But I can’t, because I’m an entrepreneur.
Yes, you heard right.
I cannot grieve the loss of this relationship because I have to continue to nurture the relationships that keep my business afloat, the mortgage paid, and my lights on.
Even being “strong” for my kids during this time of grief has taken a back burner to being “strong” for my clients and showing up for my 4am appointment… even though I have been up half the night wondering what just happened to the love of my life.
I mean, I can’t tell my full schedule of amazing Ladies that I can’t see them because my boyfriend broke up with me.
I can’t call out and use a sick day because my mental health is in jeopardy.
Some may get it and others may not, but as an entrepreneur I don’t have time to grieve. I have to go to work. The 7 stages of grief cannot reside here because I am battling the 5 year business failure demon that looms over every small business that ever starts.
So, instead, I have given myself 48 hours to grieve. And, not 48 consecutive hours; more like snippets of hours put together to equal 48.
They may consist of stolen hours in the car on my way from one client to the next. Or late nights in the Studio where I sit and think. They may consist of 10 minute conversations with my best friends, hashing out next steps. Or random phone checks throughout the day to see if he has called or texted.
In reality that’s all the time I have.
48 hours to rant, rave, scream, cry, be dirty, not comb my hair, have self-doubt, be negative, and do all the other things that come with grieving. Time to deal with myself.
Between the tears, hurt, pain, and not knowing – comes the realization that all things are working in my favor.
Some lessons can only be learned when you are your most vulnerable self. Stripped of the worldly trappings of pride, conceit, boastfulness, and are required to pull from a strength that is beyond your comprehension.
I’ll find out what I’m made of and the stock from which I come.
But when the alarm goes off and my 48 hours are over, I will put my big girl panties on and be a BOSS.
The world does not care that my relationship is over and quite frankly neither do my clients. If I am as God fearing as I claim, and as faithful as I appear, grief cannot live here.
All that I am meant to be requires that I move forward even when my feet feel stuck in misery and my heart is breaking.
I know this sounds harsh, I mean…who really puts a time limit on grieving?
For weeping only endures for a night. Joy comes in the morning.
RELATED ARTICLE: But Is He Even Worthy of Your Love?
We’re looking for Guest Writers to join our contributor team! Do you have something to share? Click HERE to find out how.