The Real Story

I have a confession (of sorts) to make. 

The fact is, the saga of Han and Lea was not a straightforward, simple one. My audience may recall a couple of years ago a number of posts regarding a breakup. 

Well, that breakup was with Han. 

Why do I feel compelled to share this? I felt like I was propagating a false fairy tale: Damsel is in distress (her mother's dying) and white knight rescues her! 

As we know, life is more complicated than that.

I had a year of post-breakup heartache. A year of self-recrimination ("Was it something I said? Something I did?") and wondering ("Why would the Eibishter taunt me like this? What am I supposed to be learning from this?") 

Then Ma got sick. All those thoughts vanished. Terror over her illness took precedence. 

It was at that time—that time—when I was overwhelmed enough already that Han called back, not knowing of the situation. The camel's back broke. I was stressed to my limit; I didn't welcome this further "complication." 

I spent a few days internally raging and staring blankly out the kitchen window as my thoughts and emotions washing-machined. 

I had every intention of re-exploring the relationship—Brené taught me there is no winning when one erects a shield of defiance—but how to go forward?

I had no energy for games. I had no mind for payback. My world was imploding. I decided to be open, honest, and vulnerable once more. 

I can't question God—His timing, His methods, His sense of humor. I could hypothesize upon His logic, but as a lowly cretin, that would be the height of chutzpah. Yet Han's presence saved not only me, but my family too, in that dark era. 

Thanks to onlysimchas and Facebook, people's lives—in this case, their romances—can seem so easy, so ideal, so effortless. But we don't know what goes on in others' lives. We are completely ignorant of the whole picture. We only see the picture they choose to post: boy goopily smiling at radiant girl as she clutches a bouquet of red roses. But there is usually much more than that. 

There are dating disappointments. There are broken engagements. There are other situations that cast their pall. But we don't know. 

Our story is messy, as all true stories usually are. Nor is it finished. Nor is it the only messy, unfinished story.