For almost a year, I’ve been seeing someone else. As happy as I’ve appeared to be with you for the past couple of years, you just weren’t fulfilling my needs anymore. I know that’s hard to hear so abruptly and forwardly, but I must admit I’m not in the place to be delicate with your feelings. Many questions are no doubt rolling through your head like a ticker tape. Why now and for what reasons? How could you do this? Now, what? I know; let me explain.

First of all, I had some of those same questions. I haven’t quite figured them all out yet, but I’m much closer to it now than I was before this affair. To quote John Green’s teenage love story, “…I fell in love like you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.” And as you know, once you fall in love, you realize you don’t need all the answers immediately. They come with time, experience, and finding yourself in a new setting.

When this started, I wasn’t sure what would become of this affair. Would this be a casual thing? Or something more serious? Then, I started to find myself. Started to understand who I am, who I’m supposed to be. Started to see my life without you.

I couldn’t bear to come home to you each day anymore. I was a fraud, living a life that belonged to you, not me. The saddest part is that no matter how much I thought I hid it, those who knew me best could see right through the thinly veiled smiles and generic responses trying to affirm, “everything was fine.” It was sad because everyone seemed to encourage me to move on without me knowing how. It was sad because you seemed to have this imaginary hold around my ankles, making me drudge through my days. It was sad because I allowed it to happen for so long.

Then it happened.

I had always heard that if you don’t take the nudge from God, He’d push you into what He wants you to do. Well, it’s true. And it’s beautifully scary and freeing. I launched into my affair wholeheartedly then. It felt…great.

I know it’s hard for you to hear this, but I want you to know I’m changed, and I don’t want to go back. Ever. I’ve taken the weird looks and the pointed remarks, and I’ll even deal with the future consequences if there is any. But you must know, must understand, now that I’ve lived my new life with Adventure and Freedom, they’re a part of me.

You’ll always be a part of me, too, but in the sense of lessons learned. I’ll never be able to go back to you, my Stretched Thin, Unhappy Self. You drained me of so much and made me question my very existence. But now, I’m a better version of me, still searching for my exact place, yet knowing what I will and won’t accept any more.

Goodbye, Old Self. Don’t try to find me; I’ll be happier without you. 

Perpetually Undefined,

Elizabeth Jones