Break-ups @ MindSay 
love
1) Ronnie Auble
2) John Hadnson
3) Jonathan Peter
4) Shannon Mitchel
5) Joshua Mick
These were the ones that really hurt." -Nick Hornby, High Fidelity
Ronnie Auble (1993)
Back in the day of innocence there was no gender really, people were people, until the fateful "I'll show you mine you show me yours" when the difference between males and females became apparent. This happened for me a few years earlier, in my grandmother's closet, with my adopted cousin, and so had my first kiss (it was french and very awkward).
Cooties ran rampant too in my childhood. Recesses were spent trying to spread this deadly disease, running around aimlessly trying to catch any helpless person of the opposite sex and kill them with a kiss, thinking "may be the affects of cooties were the same as chicken pox" since those strange little red dots were seen every other week in the school on kids that mysteriously disappeared for days after the dots appeared. Kids don't know "cooties" don't exist they are happy in their ignorance. So was I.
Each summer also, during this period of life, some parent's would send their children away to some foreign place known as a summer camp, for a week or so. I didn't know parent's got sick of me over time, I just knew that other kids were being sent away as well so I should just go along with it. Their fate was mine. At summer camp I met Ronnie Auble. Ronnie was in my group for archery, canoeing, and more aimless running around, and learning skills that have no practical use in life unless you are a child at summer camp. He was the son of somebody who worked with my dad, this fact held no real importance to me what-so-ever I just saw him as another kid. He and I played together and were inseparable, sneaking off randomly between the mindless activities to go into the woods and kiss, not making-out mind you, but kiss.
Each day before camp was over we'd sit together on the bus going to the place where our parent's would eventually pick us up. We thought we were soooo important holding hands and acting like a "grown up couple". He even asked me to marry him, yet this was also as common as cooties in 8 year olds. I accepted.
One day when the inevitable bus ride came it all changed. I sat next to him and we held hands as usual, then he came in close to me and kissed me, then he tried to do it again and again, he said he was trying to "make-up" with me (he and I did not know the actual term was "make-out"). I had never experienced this before so I was frightened at what was happening, and in public no less. I yelled out "stop trying to make-up with me!!!!" (it was not until later that my sister explained that kissing over and over again was called "making-out" not making-up. At least I got the "making" part right.).
After that incident on the bus, I was mad with him and I told him so in a huffy kidish manner and told him I never wanted to see him again and he wasn't my friend anymore. He cried and told me that he didn't want to marry me any longer and by the by I was no longer invited to his birthday party. I cried too and threw-up because of sun-sickness before my parents came and picked me up. Our, if you can even call it a relationship, lasted for one and a half weeks. It was my first, and not even close to my last.
The rest of summer camp went by quickly after that. I decided I was not interested in him any which way. I didn't even know what I was doing or what a relationship was back then, all I knew was what every other kid knew: guys and girls kiss on the T.V. so that should be what I do too. It didn't even compute that my parent's were a couple in those days, I just knew them as "Mom" and "Dad", and for some odd reason they sleep in the same room, much like sisters and brothers do. People think ewww.... when they think about their parent's in a room together, but they should just come off it. The reason all of us are here in this world is because our parents had sex. Sex, sex, sex, some of it dirty, filthy sex, with toys, and whipped cream. That's why they sleep together, that's why they wanted us to go to places like "summer camp". It is good and normal not wanting to think about it, but it's a fact of life that everyone must come to terms with at some point, better sooner than later.
John Hadnson (1996-1998)
Ronnie hurt me, it wasn't a depressing overwhelming hurt. The truth is I forgot all about him in less than a week, I had more important things to worry about, like what dive I was to do off my grandfather's diving board into his pool. The hurt came over time, and I also came to terms with the fact that I had no clue what the heck I was doing, and I knew Ronnie had no clue what he had done either. I still, to this day don't know what the heck I'm doing, but I have gotten better and better at faking it.
I missed summer camp and Ronnie and our adventures in the woods and I didn't know why. The years passed by and he faded into memory. School was a whole different adventure.
Elementary school is the only place, and circumstance, in my opinion, where girls and guys can be friends, and not romantically involved, or think about being romantically involved unless playing a game of "Truth or Dare" or "Spin the bottle", yet that still doesn't occur until puberty starts to decimate the body with an attack of hormones.
I met John Hadnson in my classroom, it's suprising that two people can be so unaware of each other's existence until that first "Hello". He had been in my classroom for two full years beforehand, yet I never spoke to him or knew his name before he "asked me out". And John did "ask me out". I was even more confused by this maneuver by him, because I had never been asked out before, Ronnie and I just happened there was no "I like you do you like me?"
-To be continued
I figured since Garrett is gone for the next 4 days it would be an appropriate time to recount the tale of our reconciliation. Why, you may ask, does one have to do with the other? Because our reconciliation involved being physically separated, and it was much longer than 4 days. So, I learned early on that physical separation does not mean emotional separation. That, plus the tale of our break-up should still be fresh in your mind, and if it isn't go here to read about it, and my final reason for writing this entry, because I can't think of anything else to write about, lol.
Ok, so I was left devastated with my heart broken into a million pieces, destroying my figure with boxes of Oreos, and listening to crappy love songs all while holed up in my sister's extra bedroom. Yeah, I was a mess, but as I stated, I mentally forced myself to stand up, shower, put one foot in front of the other, and join the human race again. I began by looking for a summer job. I did not want to go back to the produce store where I had worked while in high school. I needed something new. I had some grand idea of being a camp counselor at a summer camp, but I had no idea where to go to even apply to something like that. I figured working with bratty kids all summer would keep my mind off of other things. I had no luck finding a job that would suit me, so I decided to work retail in a store in downtown Chicago. I figured the energy of the city would seep into me and make me want to participate in life again.
I found a job, and now I wanted to work on me, the physical me. I started jogging in the park with my sister (I hate jogging), and I started eating better, and I lost weight and felt good about myself. I didn't see my friends too much, but that was ok, because we were all busy. Everything was fine, things were going great, and I felt like I was in a good place, so I decided to write a letter. Nowadays we would say that I was seeking closure by writing that letter. I just wanted to let him know that I was fine, and I wished him nothing but the best, and that I truly hoped he found the happiness that he was seeking. It was a short letter, friendly and full of fluff, but my intention was clear...you have a good life, and so will I. I sent that letter off and had one of my best weeks ever. The spring was back in my step, I was able to fit into a size 6 skirt, and I just knew that I could go on with my life without him in it, I had accepted it.
Then I got a phone call late one evening, it was him. I was happy to hear from him, I did miss him, but it was ok. It was a friendly call, but nothing more, and that was ok too. Then I got his letter. It wasn't a letter wishing me well, and saying "goodbye". It was a letter telling me that he still loved me, and he had no idea how in the hell it would work, but he had to have me back. He said, he tried to deny how strongly he felt about me, but it wasn't working, and somehow in some way he had to have me back into his life.
It's what every girl wants to hear right? Of course it made me happy, of course I wanted to climb up to the tallest tower and scream out, "He loves me, he loves me!", but we still had the small problem of being physically separated by more than 1,100 miles. He wasn't going to move back to Chicago, and I was only 19, there was no way I was ready to move away from home yet. So, what to do? We talked and wrote long letters and we figured we would make the best of it, and take it one day at a time. He had a job, and would save money to visit every few months, I could save up my money and visit during winter and spring breaks. About a month after that first phone call, he sent me money so I could fly down for a week. I managed to get the time off and flew down to Orlando to see him. It was perfect. I cried like a baby when I got on the plane to fly back home. The rest of the summer passed by in relative peace, lots of phone calls, lots of letters (which I still have), it was all working out.
I went back to school at the end of summer. When I told people that Garrett and I had gotten back together they smiled and said things like, "Wow, um...good luck with that." I got a lot of doubting looks, a lot of smirks and I even had a couple of his fraternity buddies hit on me, but I handled all that with my usual finesse and grace, lol. After a few weeks our friends knew we were serious and started respecting our relationship. A couple of months into the school year, Garrett came to visit me on campus. That just solidified everything for everyone to see. It also helped that we got engaged. He gave me a charming diamond ring and asked me to spend the rest of my life with him. I happily agreed.
So, we had broken-up, made up, and gotten engaged. You'd think the story would end there, but remember, we were still separated by more than 1,100 miles. So, what would happen next? Would we both finish school? Who would move? When would we get married? It was all so crazy...I mean I was only 19! How could I possibly know what I wanted for the rest of my life at 19? But, I did know, and with a certainty that went to the center of my soul. We both knew what we wanted, and we both knew that somehow, in someway we would figure it out together.
I was just reading a survey that eyesofdarkness had, and one of the questions really struck me...How do you handle a break-up? Since I've been with my husband for 20 years (13 married and 7 dating) it's been a long, long time since I've had to go through a break-up, and I've really only had one sad break-up, but I still remember it, and it still hurts me when I think about it, and the strangest thing about it is, that the break-up was with my husband.
Prior to meeting my husband I had dated a few guys, one somewhat seriously, but the rest of my relationships were fairly superficial, at least they were for me, and so I hadn't really had any bad/sad break-ups. I've recounted the story of meeting my husband for the first time before, so I might as well tell you about our break-up. After our first date together we were inseparable. I spent just about every night in his room at the fraternity house. Both of our grades dropped, and neither one of us cared. It went on like that for 7 months. We had one month of school left, and he would be moving back to Orlando with his parents for the summer and I'd go back to Chicago. I knew this, and I was prepared for it, because I knew we'd be together again in the Fall. I was wrong. We had a date one evening, but first he had to attend a fraternity meeting that he couldn't get out of. He asked me to wait in his room and we'd go out to dinner when the meeting was over. I let myself into the house, I heard the meeting going on down in the basement and I walked down the hall and let myself into his room. I threw my backpack down and sat on his couch. There was an envelope and a letter thrown open on the floor. He was always leaving his stuff scattered everywhere. I was use to it, and tried to not be the nosy girlfriend and look at the letter, but I couldn't help it because I could easily see the first line.
I don't agree with what you're planning to do. I think you're going to break her heart.
I knew the letter was from his mother, I saw the return address on the envelope. So, what was he planning, and who's heart was going to break? I grabbed the letter and read it. It was my heart that was going to break. Mine! I dropped the letter, and ran out of there as quickly as I could. I cried all the way back to my dorm. Thankfully my roommate wasn't there. I collapsed on my bed and cried, and cried and when I couldn't cry any more I just started all over again. He wasn't going to come back to school, he was moving to Orlando for good. He hadn't planned on telling me. He was just going to pretend that everything was ok, and we'd see each other again in the Fall. Didn't he know I loved him? I guess not..we never told each other that. Maybe he doesn't love me? How could he do this? These were the thoughts that interrupted my cries. The phone rang, it was him, "Where are you? I thought you said you'd wait in my room for me?" I told him I found the letter, the silence was deafening, finally he said, "I'll be right there." It didn't matter, I thought, he was leaving. I continued my crying and within 5 minutes there was a knock on the door. I promised myself I wouldn't breakdown in front of him. I collapsed into tears at the sight of him. He took me in his arms and quickly closed the door. He held me while I cried and waited till I calmed down. I finally asked him, "Why?"
"Why? Why are you leaving? Why aren't you coming back? Why don't you love me?"
Then I broke down in sobs again. Even my next door neighbors could hear me. One of the guys, Dave, knocked on the door. Garrett answered and told him everything was ok, but Dave wouldn't leave until he could see me, and hear from me that everything was ok. I opened the door further and the look on Dave's face just said, "Give me the ok, and I'll beat the shit out of him." I remember thinking that was the sweetest thing. I gave him a weak smile, and assured him I was fine, and that it was ok for him to leave. He hesistantly nodded his head and left. It gave me the break I needed. I had calmed down enough to give Garrett a chance to explain. A chance to explain why he was breaking my heart into a million pieces. He hated going to school here, he hated the fraternity house, he missed being close to his parents, and he needed to start fresh, and that the only good thing in his life at the moment was me, but that, that wasn't enough to keep him there. I finally told him I loved him, and that I had thought he loved me too. He said he did love me, but he needed to move on. He hadn't planned on telling me because he wanted us both to enjoy our last days together without the stress of knowing it would be our very last days together forever. I told him he was an idiot and that was the stupidest thing I had ever heard of. I wanted to hate him, I wanted to scream, I wanted to tell him it was over right there and then, but I didn't. We spent the next few weeks as if nothing had happened. On the last day of school we packed our belongings and I drove with him to his friends house where he would spend the night and then fly to his home in Orlando the next day. My sister was scheduled to pick me up there. We spent the last hour together in silence and wrapped in each other's arms. I saw my sister pull up in her car outside the front window. We said our goodbyes and I left. I spent the next 2 weeks locked up in my room, listening to love songs on the radio and eating box after box of Oreos. I gained 5 pounds. My sister was sympathetic and understanding. She gave me time to get through the pain. Then one day I decided to join the human race again and started looking for a summer job, started jogging with my sister in the park at night, and decided that everything would work out for the best. And it did...That's not a surprise I suppose, because I did end up marrying Garrett, but that part of our story is for another time. This time it's about the break-up, and that my friends was our break-up. So, how do you handle a break-up?
I have that sick feeling again. You know the one, it happens when your lover (who told you 2 days ago that she loves you deeply) tells you she's now leaving you.
It happens because when you hear that phrase - "I'm leaving you, it's over" or anything like it, you immediately have a life-or-death moment. It starts way back in your Limbic brain, you sense fear and then you face rejection. It's the same feeling you get when you throw your spear and miss the buffalo. A sick, empty feeling in your gut that tells you something really bad is happening.
The problem is that in relationships, it can go on for days or even months and it doesn't seem to get better. It's there because you have been rejected and that means you aren't good enough. You have failed and will probably be eaten by wild animals.
I should have stayed single, I should have known better, I should be OK soon.
Shoulda, woulda, coulda - didn't.
Pass me a scalpel please nurse, I need to cut out my heart.
Hey ya'll ok if jay breezy reading this hee hee hee i dont care love me or hate me!
well yea i broke up with tim!!!! dont ask y please! but idk i like cameron now and kinda dillion but idk who knows so... well thats about it...iguess
*xoxo*
haylee
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