“He’s my … ex”

Hmm… Yesterday, I finally was able to call him my ex. Before, I’d use the term, “my friend” or “my old boyfriend”. And to people that I haven’t told about the break yet, I would just gloss over and still refer to him as “my boyfriend”, because I didn’t want to explain everything and go over all the details again, etc etc.

My friend has been encouraging me to use the word “ex”.. that is.. whenever I’m ready.

There was a birthday party, with 20+ people, and some people who I met for the first time. And I quickly realized that many of my stories or random anecdotes or jokes or funny facts  are sometimes related to my “old boyfriend”. And finally, because “ex” is just a so much shorter word, that I finally just gave up and started referring to him as my ex. And it felt… not bad!

Actually, it felt as if I was finally letting go. I think the apprehension of letting go was scarier than the reality of it. (Like trusting someone when they tell you to let go of the ledge of a burning building, and the fear of falling is so much worse than when you find yourself falling into a huge cushion or net.) It was kind of like… a breath of relief. As if I were holding on to my breath all this time, and I finally let it all out. And start breathing.

I think I’m okay now. I can start saying, “He’s my ex.” And now, I think I can breathe again.

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