Everyone Has Their Patrick.

All, before proceeding, please forgive me for being petty. Forgive me for my shallow attempt at consoling myself because I’m publicly exposing my ex for who I’ve found him to be. Stay with me though because this won’t be all about him; that would be unfair and lack credibility on my end. I will expose myself, for my wrong doings and who I found myself to be. I justify this because I’ve always proudly shared him across all forms of social media and verbally to any ears that would listen. So, most of you might be familiar with his face, name, or successes. And honestly, in the spirt of fairness, he deserved every boast. He was like King Midas in the sense that everything he touched turned to gold – everything he did was of the highest achievement. I put him on this pedestal of success that ultimately affected my belief of success in myself despite my higher GPA and equal amount of accomplishments. He used to tell me, “Halle, the only intelligent thing I’ve done in recent memory is choosing you and making sure you were mine.”  I swooned at the multitude of these beautifully articulated statements (courtesy of his English minor) that he showered me in daily. But as time progressed and our relationship spiraled downwards, out of his thin pink pursed lips he would also construct sentences like, “you’re literally crazy” and “why are you such a bitch?” I’m aware that this post may make it back to him. But it’s worth the risk because this is to all my girls, my best friends who’s stories I know personally, and to those I don’t. I hope you find comfort in this, knowing that everyone has had a Patrick.

To date, he was my favorite person to love. He had these loose blonde curls that he hated but I loved. They looked best all tussled and tossed when he would wake up. I loved him for shallow reasons. He was cute. Maybe not societal standards “hot” but he had good features; blonde curls, long and dark eyelashes, a strong chest, a distinct voice always full of compliments and sincere “I love you’s”, and thin pink lips that he would frequently use to kiss the back of my hand and the tip of my nose. I just loved, him. Per some of my previous posts I’m sure you can deduce that the brokenness I endured all last semester was due to our detrimental break up brought to you by yours truly. I remember sitting in my car one rainy Saturday morning in September while we ate Sheetz food at 9am desperately trying to hold onto something that was falling apart. I told him it wasn’t worth it anymore. Now, I’ve had multiple people who know the both of us address me about our break up. They always assume that because of his lifestyle that he cheated on me. I want to make this very clear. Patrick may have made choices that were morally questionable – but – never, nor will he ever, be a cheater. This I am confident in. But I must stop this bragging now because I feel myself crying behind rose colored glasses that only see pretty words and loyalty. To my audience, has a name come to mind yet in your own personal experiences? Do you feel less alone?

So far I’ve spoken about him in a positive light. But I gotta stop myself because my thoughts are getting convoluted by the few impeccable memories we share opposed to what should be a product of my typing which is his selfish, egotistical, and narcissistic self. So let me tell you about me and the things I’m not proud of because I directly and indirectly let these qualities dictate me. I lost control of myself. His biggest plight with me was my lack of conscious decision making and boy did I exercise this. With each new piece of information I learned about his post-break up coping mechanisms, I reacted. I snooped and made disgusting and petty decisions that affected the friendships I had with people that supported me and held all my tears. At this point, I can’t even remember everything I did. I was crazy. I was literally driven crazy. I was my lowest low and most disgusting version of myself.  You know those times when you can literally feel your blood boiling? That’s how I’ve spent the past 9 months. Isn’t that how we should know with we’re the wrong person? With the right person I can only imagine there is an overwhelming sense of security and peace. I would argue that the right relationship doesn’t even utter the phrase, “ya, we’re crazy in love.” What kind of love can be associated with crazy? When I think of love and the love I want to give and be given, I think of Jesus. Never once do we hear he has a crazy love for us. I’ve heard he has a “jealous” love for us, but I think that’s far from synonymous.

I’ll add this. It’s 11am at the time I’m publishing this. So far, I’ve seen him three times before 8:30am this morning. And in five days he graduates. Remnants of him are still scattered across my room like blown dandelion seeds after one makes a wish and for nine months he was my wish. Can you tell by my writing I still think of him often? That my heart and my head have yet to fully let go? But I think of this. I know why I loved him – but I also know why I left him. He became, or maybe always was, a person I could not boast about. And if you ask him, he would say the same about me, and rightfully so. I became someone I didn’t want to be around, so why should I expect him to want to be? I’m at the point where I want nothing but happiness for him. I’ve come to terms that I am not the cause of that happiness – and that’s ok. I’m not taking responsibility for his actions – that would be indirect manipulation. Instead, I am confident in knowing that he was not the cause of my happiness, either. I am fulfilled and confidently happy because I now have time for movie nights and memory-making-mistakes with my best friends, late night Sheetz runs, and uninterrupted academic success.

So here’s to all our Patrick’s. You are successful, intelligent, beautiful, forces to be reckoned with. But you are not for us. My biggest battle is between what my head knows but my heart feels. In the most cliché of all ways I encourage you to rest in the fact that it does get better. Don’t argue with me. I thought I was the exception. But here we are. Yesterday would’ve been our one year anniversary and I forgot. Today, I woke up and deleted the letters I wrote him, the videos I’ve taken of him, and the voicemails he’s left me where in between tears he confesses his love for me and desperate pleas for us to try, try, and try again. I beg of you. Flee from these thoughts. Set some goals and cling to them. Let yourself mope, listen to some sad songs, cry until you’re dehydrated for these are signs of healing – and healing is better than distractions. We all have (or will have) a Patrick. And I would confidently say that we were their female versions of “Patrick’s.” But we’ll all have something better, too. I serve a God that does not make mistakes. I’ve let go of begging God to wreck both Patrick and I’s heart so that we can find ourselves in love, married, parents of three children, owners of two German shepherds, and titles of Mr. and Mrs. omitted because they’ve been replaced by “Dr.” Some days its hard to believe that God knows what He’s doing, that He doesn’t fall off of his throne, and that He doesn’t mess up. I’ll leave you with this. Be sure to silently thank them for the friendships you’ve built, the obstacles you’ve overcome, and the successes you never would’ve achieved without knowing or being broken by them. Please pray for your Patrick. Pray for their future significant other, their dreams, successes, and future family. It’s healing. But don’t forget to pray for yourself, your significant other, dreams, successes, and future family. Remember, He knows what He’s doing. He doesn’t fall off his throne. He doesn’t make mistakes. He is good --- all the time, and all the time, He is good. I promise, you’re not alone, you’re not the exception.

Xoxo

-          H.