THE BLOG

This Is What Lost Love Looks Like

05/19/2014 01:22 pm ET | Updated Jul 19, 2014
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There are no tears shed like the ones dripping down your cheeks due to loss.

Unexpected loss. Uncertain loss. Loss that tricks you into thinking it is not true loss, that this -- this thing, this person, this whatever it is -- will come back to you.

No pillows are soaked with tears as much those due to loss associated with love. And if we are going to be honest, isn't all loss attached to love in some way? The loss hurts because we loved. Loved the person. Loved the pet. Loved the game. Loved the place.

Then there's the kind of loss that breaks two into one. The scary loss, the one that looms over all of us in some way because it is only one decision away. The loss we all fear could catch up with us. None of us are immune to another's choices. What if we are one of the two that don't make it?

This is what we fear. Loss. Loneliness. Heartbreak.

So, we put up walls. Walls to keep the chance of loss from entering our hearts. Or walls to keep us trapped in something that shouldn't exist. We push puzzle pieces that don't quite fit together, change and morph to try to mold so we don't let go. Give excuses and reasons. When our minds get in the way, it just adds to the chaos. Analyzing. Worrying. Arguing.

We don't want to lose.

Sometimes you don't know you are losing something until it's already gone. And there you are, left to deal with the mess that loss leaves behind.

The mess of emotions, as if your heart has turned into a rubber band ball, different emotions all twisted and turned and tied up around each other. Anger. Frustration. Fear. Pain.

Your heart aches. You clutch your chest and feel 100% certain you could tell a doctor where your heart lies in your chest cavity. It's here, right here, because this is where it hurts, I can't breathe, please create a dam to dry the water pouring out of my eye sockets. Instead, plug something in the sockets so my eyes have sparks again. Light again.

You bargain. Bargain with yourself to not text or call. Don't give in.

You give in. You feel guilty for giving in. You kick yourself for giving in.

Clutching, crying, half-living, half-dying. As dramatic as it may sound, this is reality. This is what loss looks like. This is what grief looks like.

You bargain more. Bargain with God to make this go away, bring the person back, bring the past back. Bargain with yourself that you are making the call in the name of closure, ignoring your heart that knows the only closure you need comes from within. You think "I miss you" and "I miss us" and "We can make things better." But sometimes, no amounts of glue can repair shards of a shattered mirror.

We all fear loss. So we put up walls. Walls to keep feelings from going in. Walls to keep feelings from going out.

You're not crazy, though. You're not alone. Don't listen to your mind telling you those things. Your mind can be mean and irrational and tell you lies to push down your worth. Loss happens, and it's not always your heart. There's a reason for this. You need to go through this. The best thing for loss is time. Let the clock tick with the beat of your heart, and each passing second becomes a stitch to patch things up.

You think you'll never be the same. You're right. But as much as loss hurts, try not to completely lose yourself, too. It's hard. And that's OK. You're allowed to think it's hard and it sucks and the pain hurts. You're allowed.

A heart learns lessons from its wounds; it attaches memories to its scars. A scarred heart still works, still beats, still lives.

You'll get through it. You will. The clock will tick and your heart will beat itself to healed and whole. You'll live and love and remember. The loss happened. It affected. It's part of your story now. But our losses help us to appreciate our gains, and the biggest gains can come from loss.

And then, we grow.