When You Let Go, Really Let Go

I've seen Brown twice since our breakup nearly 10 years ago.

The first was a few months later. I was in my kitchen washing dishes and singing. He greeted me with, "It sings," in a tone of voice that said how dare I sing while he nursed a broken heart.

The second time was a few years later. I was heavily involved with transformational seminars that required me to have conversations with people I had unfinished business with. I basically acknowledged that the elephant in the room had played a bigger role in our breakup than the betrayal, and apologized for treating him like a bad guy who needed to constantly atone.

Then a year or so after that, I called Brown to (falsely) accuse him of giving me an STD.

I'd had an abnormal pap smear. When I went in for my biopsy, I asked my mean, hatchet-faced OB-GYN what an abnormal pap meant, and she tersely replied that I had an STD. She didn't bother to explain what I've now learned from commercials: that a very common virus called HPV can cause cervical cancer in roughly 10 percent of women exposed to it.

I thought I was dying of cancer. So in total terror of my impending baldness, radiation-imposed barrenness and ultimate untimely death, I gave Brown yet another piece of my mind.

Of course, the biopsy turned out negative. I wasn't dying. And I didn't have an STD.

But I was too embarrassed to apologize, because I'd blurted out, "I haven't been with anybody since you, so if I have something, you gave it to me."

I'd admitted to being stuck in my head with him, while he had moved on – into the arms of a Korean woman.

I haven't seen or talked to him since, but through the years, I've kept up with him through his best friend's wife. When we talk, she gives me the juicy second-hand gossip about his wife, kids and drama.

A few years ago, I admitted to my friend Chief that I was still in love with Brown. Her face kinda squinched up. She was my boss at the new job I took while Brown and I were breaking up. Then and now, whenever I describe my relationship with him, she always says the same thing, "He sounds totally wrong for you."

A few weeks back, while blogging about the Brown saga, I confided to her how writing about him brought up all this stuff because "I still hadn't found his replacement."

Chief gave me one of her quizzical looks, and gently pointed out that I wasn't supposed to be looking for Brown's "replacement."

In that moment, I realized that instead of looking for a love that's based on mutual respect, shared goals and shared dreams, I was merely measuring every man against my selective memories of how good things used to be with Brown.

Writing about him has made me realize the extent to which I've been playing the what-if game. The blaming-myself-for-letting-go game. The blaming-him-for-not-trying-harder game. The blaming-his-wife-even-though-I-don't-know-her game.

So I made the decision to really let him go – psychically and emotionally, not just physically. I prayed for him to be happy (instead of hoping he'd waste away from miserable, undying love for me). I prayed he'd have a great relationship with his wife (instead of taking pleasure in second-hand tales of marital discord). I prayed for him to completely release me and for me to completely release him.

In writing this blog, and supplementing it with a deep intention to forgive and be forgiven, I feel like I've finally let Brown go – for real and for good.

Thanks for being a part of my healing process.

(Brown Diaries Parts 1-18: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 | Lessons Learned Part 3 of 3: 1 2 3)

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