Lucas Ottone / Stocksy
What does it really mean to let go?
OurLetting Goseries highlights these compelling and complicated stories.
When I was 13, I made a checklist of traits I required of my future husband.
Lucas Ottone / Stocksy
Ten years and a few broken hearts later (I finally understood Avrils anguish!
), I met someone who embodied everything on that long-forgotten list.
(I was a shallow 13-year-old.)
Javier DÃez / Stocksy
Successful (whatever that meant as a teen)?Check.
Buys me chicken nuggets, no questions asked?
Check, check, check.
Ray-Les / Stocksy
Leo and I found each other unexpectedly, both freshly single from previous relationships.
It felt right in a way no other romantic relationship had before in my life.
With my previous boyfriends, there was always an imbalance between who loved and who was loved.
With Leo, it felt equal.
We loved each other the exact samewhich would be a lot, and passionately.
I shook my head slightly, feeling for her plight while being simultaneously relieved I wasnt in her shoes.
Dont you feel lucky we found each other?
For almost three years, I was in a blissful cloud.Wewere in a blissful cloud.
Everything happening around us felt hazy, tinged in Millennial Pink, and warm.
Nothing could really go wrong, because we had each other.
When that voice crept up, I quashed it immediately.
For no apparent reason whatsoever, my womb-like, comforting world was suddenly glaringly bright and loud.
A tinny sound ran in my ears, and I felt a mixture of dizzy and disoriented.
I look back on our relationship, and that moment feels like the point when everything started unraveling.
Could Leo be The Onethe final One?
Was I ready for what lay ahead if the answer was yes?
At first, I assumed this was a rebellion to my super-strict upbringing.
So maybe its in my blood.
Once I had allowed the thought in, I couldnt ignore it anymore.
My relationship was precious.
It was the purest romantic connection Id ever experienced with another human.
This childish fear held me back every time I even began to envision a life without Leo.
That, and the fact I still loved him.
He was my ideal life partnerit didn’t make sense to me why I would feel so conflicted.
Either way, I was paralyzed with self-doubt.
Dear Sugartold me that if my heart was telling me to go, I should go.
But how could I?
How could she know the intricacies of my special relationship?
Shed never met Leo, never seen the small, selfless things he did for me every day.
She didnt know our love.
Maybe if she did, shed rethink her advice.
And so I carried on, pleading for the voice to yo, yo go away.
My heart was safe with him.
But the voice persisted.
I still felt unsure and terrified I had made the wrong decision.
I cried for a week straighton the subway (a New York rite of passage!
), in cabs, in the bathroom at work, into my brand-new Brooklinen sheets.
If I had made the right choice, why was I so damnsad?
Even then, I couldnt have predicted the reason he called me that Friday night.
The word pricked at me like a bee sting, dug into me like talons.
A year and a half after our breakup and he had moved on so swiftly.
I took a shot at the bar.
Yes, I was hurt.
But the regret never came.
But other times, I yearned for something else entirely.
Slowly but surely (and not without a slip-up every so often), I’m moving forward.
But maybe luck has nothing to do with it.
Maybe its a choice.
Maybe its always been a choice.
I think she knew, though, deep down.
Ill give her that.
