A Word About Heartbreak

Sometimes, there's just nothing left to do. 

Last year around this time, I had my heart broken by someone who was extremely important to me. My first break up, my first heartbreak.  What followed was a very interesting journey of discovery. Let me welcome you to the world of experiencing heartbreak for the first time.

Originally, the first feeling was just of minor failure. "Ok, so I did this wrong," I reasoned. I was informed that it was all my fault so I set out to figure out how to never make the same mistakes again. There's such a strange feeling about breakups that make heartbreak feel shameful. I spent a full year expecting the hurt to go away. I even wrote a book of poetry to help me cope (released to hardback soon!), but the hurt kept coming back. I'm sure she doesn't talk about me anymore. She's got a long wonderful life just ahead of her. She probably can't even recall my name. I keep coming across the letters she sent me and I barely recognize her. 

But the Lord has an immersive lesson for me in this. In the middle of being in pain for the love I lost, I found myself surrounded by ankle-deep water in our hallway wondering how much of our belongings we could save. Yes, a pipe broke while we were on the road, causing a house full of water, a collapsed ceiling, and walls soaked deeper than a rum cake. There were so many parallel feelings between the pain of a breakup and the pain of losing half a house. 

So what first? I could cry about it. Done that, but there are still messes to clean up. The walls have mildew and my lost love is getting married soon. Crying is a waste of time. So is wishing to undo the past. I wrestle with a couple Latin phrases from philosophers of the past: Amor fati, that is, love fate, and memento mori, that is, remember you have to die. This sums up simply: I can't control others, their wants,  thoughts, or desires. I can only work with the remaining life that I have to make the most of the time I've been gifted. 

That leaves only one thing to do, and that is, my favorite coping strategy: rigorously apply humor. 

When surveying the damage, I tell my family "Hey what color would you like your new carpet?" When people ask me how my girlfriend is, I say "She's finally happy now that she traded me in for a newer model!" And both times, everybody laughs and feels better. But I still am in ankle-deep water, she's getting married soon, and sometimes, there's just nothing left to do. 

Now what? I'm going to learn a lot of cool things about rebuilding houses. I'm going to get a new wardrobe. I'm going to learn how to let go of sentimental things that have been ruined beyond salvaging. I'm going to smile as often as I can. After all, I don't really need pity, I don't really want it either. I'd just as soon nobody found out about my broken heart. I won't tell people I'm fighting. They don't need to know. 

She's preparing a honeymoon suite, and I'm not going to feel what home sweet home is for many months. Is it fair? Heck no. But who cares? No one. That's life. That's how I know I'm still in the game. Watching the ceiling collapse is the same feeling as being alone in love. You can repair one, you gotta leave the other be. Sometimes, there's just nothing left to do. 

If you're reading this and I've completely bummed you out, let me assure you that everything will be okay. In fact, here are some scriptures and jokes I'm using to grow out of this. Call this group therapy. 

The Lord is good, a strong hold in the day of trouble; and he knoweth them that trust in him.  Nahum 1:7

But let all those that put their trust in thee rejoice: let them ever shout for joy, because thou defendest them: let them also that love thy name be joyful in thee. Psalm 5:11

Thou tellest my wanderings: put thou my tears into thy bottle: are they not in thy book? Psalm 56:8

And not only so, but we glory in tribulations also: knowing that tribulation worketh patience; Romans 5:3  

I heard my ex's dog died. So I bought her one just like it, but she wasn't at all thankful. She said, "What am I gonna do with two dead dogs?"

My ex left me because I didn't like her obsession with counting. I wonder what she's up to now?

Whenever life gets tough, I remind myself "This too shall pass". I mean, it'll pass like a kidney stone, but it'll still pass.

Rod and Reel Reflections

I had the esteemed opportunity recently to spend a lazy Texas morning fishing on Lake Livingston.  I took advantage of the opportunity to be introspective and meditative as my bobber bobbed and the waves waved and my hook didn't hook. 

Life can be a lot like fishing, yes, I'm sure you've cringed through this homespun proverb a time or two. You've heard all about how the enjoyment of fishing isn't always just landing the big one, but to be happy to have the time off from the daily grind. You've heard that line how fishing is just a jerk on one end of a line waiting for a jerk on the other. You've no doubt heard that it's just the friends you met along the way. Cringe, as the youth of our time say. 

But this particular day, I went through 3 different kinds of bait in an attempt to proverbially disentangle the cause of my lonely lure. I glanced at the jar of magic fishing power bait and began to really ponder the depths of what was on the label:

"Satisfying!" "Fish hold on 18x longer!" "The taste they love!"

How. In. Beige. Tarnation. 

How? 

How do they know this?

I can only imagine a group of scientists wearing lab coats and fishing hats training bass and catfish to ring little bells if they liked the taste of something. 

"Very good, Dr. Jeeves, I'll have more of that," the catfish probably says.

"Delectable, my good doctor. I could eat, like, 18 more of those," says the bass smacking his comically large lips. 

I can't say I'm convinced. Could it be that it's a group of scientists in lab coats and fishing hats tasting the bait themselves? If that's it, why am I throwing it into the lake? I want to enjoy something satisfying and tasty. It would seem like a waste. 

I paused at this moment to check for a poison control number on the label, an intrusive thought that I'm sure you've never had. 

No number. 

If it's not there, it's gotta be okay, right? No, wait, the Darwin Award slips out of my reach as I read the disclaimer "Not for Human consumption". 

Ok, fine... but what are they hiding from us? 

I think back to the trained fish. If the bait is satisfying, I suppose they don't go back for seconds. Just one bite, and then it's time for the post-supper-siesta we all come to love. I don't like the sound of that. The more I think, the less I want a satisfying bait on my hook. I want something they can't get enough of. Something that'll keep them coming back. Something that they'll share with their fish friends. 

Unfortunately, I don't think they bottle that. 

At this point, the sun got hot and my eyebrows started sweating so I packed up the enigmatic bait jar and my reel and walked back to the air conditioning. 

I said a little prayer on my way, thanking the Lord for a chance to fish, a Texas morning to wake up to, and for giving me the insight to not eat unconsumable power bait... no matter how satisfying its advertised to be. There are many things in life advertised to be the greatest thing ever, so pay attention that the labels say what the labels mean.