I’ve recently ended a 3 plus year relationship. It was easy to pinpoint the reasons why, hard to figure out why it ended so abruptly ended. A Friday conversation, asking why we suddenly were different to each other. Calling a bluff. Then living in the guest room. Hotel next.

New apartment, new furnishings, new life.

The break up isn’t really what I want to talk about. The emotions there are roller coaster off the tracks. Good days, bad days, really bad days, less really bad days.

Very, very good days.

I want to talk about starting over. And not with material belongs. I’m filling up an apartment with new furniture, that’s just the math of a break up. I want to talk about the emotional starting over.

A new relationship.

Gross, starting all over again.

The best analogy I can voice is that of an 100,000 word essay. One you’ve been writing for over 3 years. You’ve done hundred of hours of research. You’ve nailed the introductions. Put your heart into the thesis statement. Hours and hours of proofing. Nailed the supporting specific points and developed a full body paragraph all about your life.

And right in the middle of it, the power shuts off, document lost.

You realized you never saved it. You didn’t need to. I mean, what were the odds of this just vanishing without a trace? This was going to be on your screen forever.

And now it’s lost.

So you lean back in your chair and wonder if you have the energy, and the heart, to start all over. Do you have the emotional bandwidth to do all this again? From the first word on. All those hours spent typing away.

Or do you take an Incomplete and fail the course.

So there’s the question I just have yet to find the answer for. And I’m guessing there isn’t a course that’s going to help me with the answer either.

Stupid heart.

The best part now is Emilee Duncan is now stalking me. Read this.