The first time I broke my heart

The first time I broke my heart

I strongly believe that nobody is truly afraid of intimacy or love. I believe we are afraid of loosing it once we have it. That’s the reason you protect your heart, or why you sabotage it when a new opportunity in love arises.

 

Seemingly unimportant memories of the past, are often the memories that echo into your present, preventing you to move ahead. The protection in your heart, is not against love. It’s against that feeling that you promised yourself you would never wanna feel again. The feeling of loss, pain, grief and being out of control.

 

That memory is there within all of us. It states very simple message: the greater you love, the greater the potential pain could be if you lose it.

 

MY FIRST BROKEN HEART

 

I experienced my first broken heart at the age of 9. It may not have been a romantic relationship, but this friendship was so deep, that the loss impacted my heart and the connections that came after.

 

Mahsa was her name. A Persian girl with a loud voice and contagious laugh. Spending time with her was like going on an adventure every time. Even if we didn’t actually go anywhere, life felt exciting standing by her side.

 

The perception of a child’s eye is timeless. There are no worries about tomorrow or what may come. This friendship became the heart of my reality, the thing that allowed me to grow through my expression and feel free in the presence of someone dear.

 

Before I continue the story I need you to know that by this age (9 years old), I had already known 6 different homes in 3 different countries. This was the fifth school I had gone to. Yet to me this lifestyle full of change and moving around was part of my “normal”.

 

I never questioned the letting go and leaving behind. I never resisted the starting again. I never even wondered about time or the temporary nature of relationships. Life just was the way it was.

 

Then something changed when Mahsa needed to go…

 

Perhaps it was a critical age in which friendship suddenly holds more meaning. Or perhaps it was due to the fact that she was the first person to ever leave me. Instead of me leaving her, like I had always done when I moved countries.

 

It was a perfectly mirrored experience. One that taught me an important lesson that rippled out into many of my relationships. To leave means being in control. To be left means being out of control.

 

The situation with Mahsa asked me to surrender in a way I’d never needed to before.

 

I was shocked and desperately wanted to hold on. I didn’t understand loss of this kind. And from the many goodbye’s I’d known, I didn’t know why did this one hurt so much.

 

My heart broke.
Yet I couldn’t talk about it.

 

LOSS OF LOVE

 

Loss can find us in all kinds of ways. The first imprint is usually at quite a young age. A vague memory that seems insignificant, yet unforgotten.

 

Was it a memory from birth? Or the pain you witnessed in your parents as they divorced? It can be through friendship, or even worse – the loss of your first real love.

 

However “innocent” the memory may seem, very often the imprint is deep and can affect the way you relate to those dare to come close.

 

So tell me… When did your heart break for the first time?

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