That guy didn’t break your heart; your EGO did.

I don’t believe Cavewoman had the luxury or time for heartbreak. Heartbreak is often caused by rejection and betrayal, and I’m not so sure that can exist in a community that shared everything – including food, shelter, children, and partners. In a time before possessions and property, where every person does their part to contribute to the ultimate goal of survival, can you reject someone, can you betray them without putting the tribe at risk? Additionally, everyone would have had a role within the tribe to fulfill, lifespans were shorter, and members of the community would have died regularly from dangerous hunts and the conditions of the time. Heartbreak seems impossible in these conditions.

But key to all of this, is that I think Cavewoman likely lacked the ego that we as humans have donned in her absence. And what does ego have to do with heartbreak? Let me tell you a story…

My husband and I didn’t have a fairytale start to our relationship. Or maybe we did. Maybe he was my knight in shining armour, saving me from the hopeless place I had found myself.

I was actually heartbroken and in love with someone else when we started dating. I’m sure many people thought we were a rebound situation, and that we would never last. 

At the time, I was certain that our relationship was a bad idea and that he would only leave me as bad as the last one. I couldn’t have been more wrong. But being broken and raw, was honestly the best thing for our beginning because it created a level of honesty where I wasn’t looking to play games and wasn’t interested in the regular bullshit that goes along with dating. I was too exhausted.

It was one of our first nights of “kind of dating” and I straight up told him all my dirty business with the other guy, and I told him I was broken, and fucked up, and in love with someone else, so if he wanted to be with me, he needed to get clear on what he wanted, because I didn’t have the heart to be hurt again… 

His response, “okay.” Ballsy.

“So, what do you want out of all this then?” I asked this in weary desperation, knowing he would likely run for the hills and I was fine with that. I was too emotionally drained to care whether he did or not. And he responded with the most perfect answer he could have, “more than I’ve wanted in a long time.”

From that point forward, he showed up every day for me. Slowly my heart healed, and I fell for him hard. He was exactly the man I needed. He was everything I didn’t know he was. We had been friends for a year prior to dating, and I had no idea he would be the friend, lover, and partner, that he turned out to be. He was tender, caring, honest, matter of fact. He saw the best in me, he basked in me, he was a straight shooter. And I cannot express the gratitude that I feel for him, still now. He kind of saved me, from no one but myself. And if I hadn’t been so fucked up when we started dating, I don’t know if things would have unfolded in the same way.  

After we started dating, I stopped crying every day. I started to see joy and happiness. Hope returned. I realized that I didn’t have to feel so awful. I had spent about four months being an emotional wreck, and I was starting to feel like me again. 

But the previous relationship still nagged me. How could I be so wrong about somebody? I truly thought that we had been “meant to be” and I couldn’t believe that I could be that wrong, but I was. 

As my husband and I grew into our relationship, my feelings faded for the other person. But not all at once. It took some time. I knew the person in the prior relationship had loved me, I knew we were a good match, so why didn’t he choose me? All the while, I’m in love with my partner now, so most important, WHY DOES IT EVEN MATTER? 

Until one day, I just let it go. Completely. I’ll save that story for another time. 

But why did it take me so long? 

The culprits were ego, self esteem, self importance.

If I think back, the verbiage I would use was, “How am I not enough? He says I am, but if I was, he’d be with me?” Or, “I thought we were meant to be, how could I be so wrong?” Particularly, I couldn’t believe how “wrong” I had been. I thought I had mattered more to someone and was crushed that I didn’t. That’s self importance.

I couldn’t believe I was so wrong. I couldn’t believe that I was expendable. That’s ego.

And if I dig deeper, I already possessed a strong sense of “not enoughness,” and this failed relationship completely exposed it, in such a cruel way, that a lot of me believed it. It highlighted the broken story within me. That’s self esteem. 

I took the failure of that relationship so personally. And the worst part about it, is that I allowed that relationship to be a CONFIRMATION of the bullshit story I was already telling myself about me not being enough. 

Please pause and think about that. 

We all tell ourselves stories, and a lot of those stories aren’t true. We tell ourselves stories about ourselves, others, our relationships. We develop stories constantly in our heads, some true, some false. I have a story that I’m not enough, and I think we all likely have a version of that story, and that’s why it is of the GREATEST IMPORTANCE to have a story about exactly how whole, well, and complete we truly are. And then we must choose which story to adopt and believe – which one do we turn up, and which one we put on mute?

So, here’s my question? What story do you tell yourself about you?

And my follow up to that is, WHO in your life do you let CONFIRM it?

It was never about that guy that broke my heart. It was never about any guy. It was never about being rejected. It was about ME. My behavior and downward spiral as relationships ended, was completely related to my ego, my self importance, and my lack of self esteem. It was 100% about me and the bullshit story I had been telling myself about me.

It was MY CHOICE to accept that rejection as confirmation of my “not enoughness.” 

I ALLOWED those relationships to CONFIRM my own shitty story about me.

If I truly knew my value in those moments, if I truly understood I was amazing and beautiful, and valuable beyond measure. If I knew that I was powerful and a goddess. If I knew that I was a warrior princess descended from the baddest motherfuckers on earth. If I knew that I was ingenious, bright, and a beam of pure joy. If I knew I had incredible value to give the world. If I knew I could change the world just by being me, myself, and I. If I knew that simply my presence made other people’s lives better. If I knew that I was destined for greatness, and that I am greatness. If I knew that I could accomplish everything and anything I wanted to. If I knew that I was a force to be reckoned with. If I knew that my dream life is my life. If I knew the sun and the stars lived within me. If I knew the energy the sun warms our planet with, is the same energy that I have coursing through my veins. If I knew that I was one with the universe, that I am the universe, and that my very being is tied to the highest form of energy in this whole fucking galaxy, then my reaction to the dismissal of another would have been “peace motherfucker.” No pain, no malice, just peace. 

In all likelihood, if I had known this story, I probably wouldn’t have accepted the poor treatment in the first place. And if I had truly known my value, I likely wouldn’t have attracted that kind of relationship into my life AT ALL.

It’s completely bananas that my husband saw through all of it it, and saw who I could be, instead of the broken mess I was believing myself to be. And that’s the beautiful thing. He saw a glimmer of my sunshine through the rain and knew it would bring a rainbow. He saw the faintest ray peaking through the clouds and knew it would bring warmer days. Even in the darkest nights, he could see the reflection of my beam as it illuminated the full moon. He instead saw my other story, the quieter story. He saw the story that I wasn’t allowing anyone to confirm, the story I didn’t truly believe or claim. 

He saw the part of me that was silently raising her hand, and he called on her.  

Fourteen years later, I am stepping into that story much more often, and I feel like I’m finally showing that man that he wasn’t wrong to believe that I’m an amazing, beautiful, loving, compassionate, capable of anything, badass, warrior, goddess ET CETRA bitches! 

I’m going to prove him right, if the only reason is to show him he was. I’m going to prove him right because he fucking deserves that badass bitch. And so do all of you. And so do I!

Only you can truly give that raised hand permission to speak. Choose a tribe that believes in the quiet story. Choose which story you decide to empower and then GO BE that story!!!

Call on that raised hand every fucking day and give her permission to fill the world with her light.