But maybe, just maybe, February isn’t cursed…

Maybe it’s just honest.

It’s that last bit of frost that needs to melt before the healing season. And depending on how you look at it, it’s the end of cuffing season.

The frost is melting.

People want to rediscover themselves.

I’m coming to understand maybe Mr. Andrews needing more freedom.

Maybe February is just that last moment before the first blade of green grass is spotted. Before the flowers bloom and you get to too.

And maybe being left doesn’t mean I wasn’t worth staying for…

It just means I haven’t met someone yet who knows how to stay.

And for that, then this is definitely the best decision.

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As an Italian, I have always “resented” all the Irish-ness (ancestrally ingrained, you could say), but most importantly, corned beef and St. Patrick’s Day. But something about March 17th has a hold on me mentally and I’m starting to wonder… Is it luck, timing, or just… Irony?

I think it’s time I process this break up is not so much about me as it’s about his capacity to stay present when loving someone became exhausting when compounding with all of his other problems.

I was all in.

And I can’t change that he always had one foot out the door from the very beginning because committing was too scary; trusting that happiness can return after hard periods (or even be lasting) seemed impossible.

Whatever it is about 3/17 as a day, I am thankful that I had this moment today and that this helps you in your own journey in healing.

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I promise… This is only half click-bait.

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Anyone can look up Timothy and see his story, his legacy. Anyone can watch videos and news reports… Read the articles written while New York was mourning. Anyone with a semi-decent memory who watched it live will remember the tragedy— how much it circulated… Even if all they remember now is his face on the TV.

But no one can look you up, Rescue Medic Andrews, and see how this tragedy effected you; how it changed you. No one, albeit maybe a few colleagues, knows how much this impacted your day-to-day and career choices. You told me everything… I assume, maybe, this was also one thing you also shared with your therapist.

My point is… While I was always the “cool girlfriend” excited to hear sick-call stories, the venting about skells and cancellations, and even enjoyed the smell of smoke that stuck to your clothing… I always worried about you. Listening to your stories (the few you’d tell) and reading about First Responder Trauma… That had a lasting effect on me and how I view things. I worried about you every day for so many reasons. And now that you let me go…

Who worries about you now? And… Is it okay if it’s still me?

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This was just an impromptu recording to help process some feelings. Maybe someone relates to that seemingly never-ending feeling of worry and “I wish I could tell them”. And if so…

What is something you still worry about? or What is one thing that happened today that you would want to tell them?

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I saw a video just before posting this— some gimmicky “he’s hurting, too” tarot type thing— and the song playing in the background was “I Don’t want to Live Forever” by Zayn and Taylor Swift. I got to thinking as I was recording this…

“I got one thing stuck in my mind… Wondering if I dodged a bullet or just lost the love of my life…”

I’ve had so many say I did— dodge a bullet.

But I swore for 18 months that they didn’t know you the way I did. That you were the best thing— the “best one of the best ones” and quite possibly the love of my life… Why couldn’t I say that to you? Even after you’d said it to me…

“I just want to keep calling your name until you come back home…”

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*If someone can help me figure out why it upped the pitch of my voice so I (and he) can never sound like this again, I’d appreciate it!

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What do you all think?

You have 2 hours to message @woodysrightboot your opinions…

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For those grieving and actively healing, I hope this becomes a place where you feel safe and understood.Here’s to all the things I need to tell myself and you.Here’s to all the things I wish I could have said and still wish to tell, Mr. Andrews.

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