Dear *Marcus,

I was sitting under an oak tree.

Crying. Angry. Frustrated. And I messaged you.

Yes, I caved. Yes, I know the rule: never message an ex when you’re mad, tired or drunk. You have my assurance it’ll never be number three. Though I once claimed intoxication from a virgin strawberry daiquiri.

But I digress.

Because off went a short, vague, anxiety-ridden message. Let’s face it, at midnight I wasn’t exactly chilling under an oak tree for kicks. My Smartphone took a beating that night as I went back and forth with someone else, who tried semi-successfully to calm me down. And I kept checking that message. Still just a blue dot.

Maybe you were on business. Or you were out. Or you were sleeping. It was nearly midnight – my time – when I sent the message. Or possibly, you’re tired of my drama-drama. My bet was on that one.

However, the next day you returned my vague message. And you figured out what was wrong. I had no idea how to respond. So, I didn’t. My fingers just hovered over the keyboard. Because I couldn’t type, “Nope. All good!” since, a) you were right; and b) you didn’t message me to play twenty questions.

But I gather you took my silence as your answer. Thank you for not pushing me for details. That would’ve been awkward.

I contacted you for guidance. Wisdom. Inspiration. Motivation. That stuff that used to make me bound out of bed in the morning. I needed to read: you’ll be okay.

Thank you for being that person. Thank you for not belittling me. Or saying “You’re too sensitive,” or “Hey, not my circus, not my monkeys. Ciao.” Thank you for spending the day messaging an anxiety-ridden ex when I’m sure you had other plans. And thank you for not pushing for an answer.

Since we messaged, I’ve ended the pity-party. And the load is lighter. It’s easier to breathe. It’s one step at a time. Dealing with one roadblock at a time. Life is too short to let others interfere with my happiness. My worth, self-esteem and standards are no longer negotiable. They never should’ve been.

I’m plowing ahead with confidence into … well, I’m not sure. But it’ll be an adventure. A new beginning. A fresh start.

And I truly believe I’ll be okay.

Always,

Tessa

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*Names changed for privacy