Why We Can't Let Go: Understanding Breakups, and Acceptance

It’s difficult—or sometimes impossible—to accept when a relationship ends in a way that is not the result of our own decision. We cannot bear to accept how things unfold, no matter how hard we try, because we struggle so much to understand, and then it feels like we’ll die from the effort… I watch people around me struggling with breakups, and I am stunned by their explanations of what might have really caused the separation—because, they insist, it certainly wasn’t anything to do with the other person. So they blame everyone. They blame the man, who has become heartless, cruel, and altogether someone different from the person we all knew before. They blame his family, for allowing him to commit such acts against them. They blame their own family: didn’t they see back then that they were about to marry such a terrible person? Couldn’t they have said something, urged them to use a little sense? They blame the other friends: what kind of friends are those who don’t feel responsible for guiding their friend in the right direction? How can they even be called friends when you can’t rely on them? They blame life itself: why does this have to happen to me, when I’ve been such a decent person, endured so much, stood firm so many times?

They blame everyone, yet they fail to reckon with the simple fact that they are no longer needed—that the other person does not want to continue with them. Perhaps the other person isn’t to blame either, I reflect, because this is how things unfold—no one can control their feelings. Either you desire someone, or you don’t. You cannot tell your heart to beat faster when you see them instead of someone else. And of course, it’s possible that the old relationship is needed, just as much as it is, but not in a way that can be lived openly as a relationship. There are countless variations. Not to mention that it’s completely shocking that the other person can be happy without us. They continue to exist, to breathe, to live without us. They are independent, autonomous, and possess free will—and they exercise it. By their free will, they decide to take their life in a direction we did not expect. They no longer want to please us. They are not curious about us, and, in fact, almost nothing we do matters to them. So we start the whole cycle over again. We blame everyone. We blame their family. We blame our own family. We blame life. We blame their friends. But we do not accept that this was it, that it is over. — Agatha Seymour /This piece was written years ago. As I return, it finds its place here once again, unchanged./