And they lived happily ever after, apart.

Break ups are strange. Maybe it is because I am always a little surprised by them, even though I usually initiate. You don't plan on breaking up when you get into relationships.
Unless you're getting married.
Oddly enough.
But pre-nups are a whole different blog.
And when you get there. Three and a half years in. It feels like it should be more than what it was. Like, somehow, the break up should be ceremonial of sorts.
Outside of the Facebook announcement of course.
As if, it should be upheld like the first date or kiss.
It should mean something, right?
I have a strong work ethic. I don't mind scooping poop for a year if it gets me where I want to go. I push through things very well. I juggle a lot in my schedule.
Yet, I knew this relationship was not headed where I wanted or needed to go.
For at least a year.
How could I be so weak?
How dare someone say I'm strong. I feel so guilty every time someone says it. I don't deserve it.
I guess I just hoped that I could have the boy I once knew back, yet have him grow in different ways.
I was tired of being judged by his church/circle of friends. Feeling inadequate. Feeling as if everything I had done still wasn't good enough.
But I still didn't want it to end.
Oddly enough when we got back together in May, I told myself and a close friend, 6 months.
6 months of a genuine try this time and evaluate just before Thanksgiving.
She said that we both needed to try for each other's sake instead of one of us walking away wondering.
Makes sense.
Here I am, a single girl, and strangely enough, of his doing.
I don't think I will walk away wondering.
But it still hurts. Three and a half years is a long time for someone who is only 20. The relationship has been the only consistently in my life since it began.
My parents have divorced and one remarried since. I have gotten laid off. Struggle in college with no family aid. I have relied on him and those around the two of us to help me and now, even though I have worked really hard since returning from Disney to make my own life, I still feel really alone.
I thought that if I regained some independence it wouldn't be so bad if and when this day came. Instead, it pushed him away. And I knew it was. But I still kept on filling my schedule.
In a selfish way I feel like an idiot. Embarrassed that I couldn't make it work, wondering what he will tell his friends and how stupid I will look to them. Hurt that somehow I didn't fit the mold, whether or not I wanted to-simple rejection.
Naturally I have blown that feeling out of proportion to feeling hideous, stupid, and boring. The complete opposite of what every guy in every generic movie says about that girl he is telling his friends/mom: "she's smart, she's funny, she's beautiful."
No, I don't need a man to be any of that. I don't need someone to say those things about me.
I do need to readjust my life.
Character building.
I think I will go embrace "The Ragamuffin Gospel" by Brennan Manning.