Lately a few close friends in my life have gone through some pretty heavy breakups. I’m talking about the two-year-I-thought-we-were-going-to-get-married kind of breakups. The kind where they need to get new music, new friends, and even change their perfume to escape the memories of their ex.

And of course, part of being a girl is sitting around and hashing through their feelings with them, why things didn’t work, and what they should do going forward to help the pain stop. Most of these conversations have involved lying on the couch, stroking their hair, lots of tissues, drinking beers and Yogurtland (hey, I’ve dated a lot and had my heart stomped a few times…I know the tricks of the trade).

Aside from the ways that my friends have been hurting, it has been an interesting process for me as well. Part of working through their heartbreak is to affirm their emotions with similar experiences that I have had in my own dating life, and share stories of my own mistake and heartache. It has been surreal to look back on my early twenties and the kind of men (or arguably boys) that I was attracted to and the kinds of relationships that I had. Part of me looks through those years of my life can’t help but feel awe. Primarily, because I survived. I’ve had some deep cuts to this little heart of mine, and it is constantly surprising to realize that I’m still here, that I’m not jaded, and that I still believe in love.

Last night while standing in my kitchen, my brokenhearted girlfriend says to me, “Dang Jenni, you are so smart about this stuff. How do you freaking know all this?”

I honestly laughed so hard I almost spit out my beer. “If by smart you mean I’ve learned through my own many and painful mistakes, then maybe…” I suppose that dating is something that I’ve done a lot of, and hadn’t realize how much I’ve grown over the years, how much I’d changed, and how much I’d healed until I went back through it in my kitchen last night. It was almost astonishing.

I’m not typing this to tell you simply how far I have come. Yes, that is truly staggering to me. But even beyond that thought, I am realizing something as well. Even with the growth I have done, even with the changes I have made in terms of the type of men that I date, even though now I am dating someone I think is really spectacular, break ups are still agonizing. And I suppose I have been realizing the mortality of it all – even with a good man, you have skin in the game and you run the risk of being back in that harrowing place.

See, until last night, I’d forgotten how acute, powerful, and visceral the pain of letting go of love can be. I hadn’t forgotten, but in my memory it had settled as a general dull pain. Last night I was reminded that when you are in the midst of that kind of break up, every moment is riddled in pain. It hurts to breathe. You see their car everywhere. Tears are an inch below the surface. You can’t sleep. There is a dull ache in your insides, a hallow feeling. You can’t  eat. Your very existence aches.

I’d forgotten how truly dreadful it is. And maybe I had forgotten because I haven’t really loved like that in a few years. Walking down that road again freaks me out a little to be honest.  I suppose in light of my friend’s loss, I’m forced to see how vulnerable love really is. And how much I am standing to lose in my current relationship. And it really freaks me out.

As she went to bed last night, I lie in bed and stared at the ceiling. “God? Please let me never have to go through that kind of breakup pain again? Please?”

Relationships are God in Flesh

Here’s the part that I’ve been rolling over in my mind this morning: Relationships, every last one of them – they’re all risky. And I’m not just talking about the dating ones where you share your romantic heart. I’m talking about our friendships. I’m talking about our roommate relationships. Our girlfriends, our mothers, our sisters. We put skin in the game with all of those too. And our roommates hurt us, people say nasty things, friends do things that you’d never think a friend would do. We get stabbed, betrayed, walked on, or talked about.

And I guess my question to  God is, “Why did you do it this way? Why did you set it up so the most meaningful things have the power to destroy us? Isn’t there an easier way? Couldn’t You create us differently? Maybe  we could have been  like the Matrix, where we are in little isolated pods, and we never knew the difference. Would that have been so bad?”

I’m sure there are lots of reasons why God made it this way…but man, standing in my kitchen and watching the tears fall makes me wonder if He should consider other options.