How to Walk Away

by Katherine Center

“Like crazily, swooningly, heart-burstingly in love. Like the kind of in love I didn’t even know was possible. The kind of in love that makes every other emotion look tiny and dollhouse sized. The kind that feels like sunshine and fills you up with excitement somehow—even when there’s nothing to be excited about. The kind that makes everything better—no matter how bad it is—and even utterly ordinary

things like brushing your teeth feel tinged with magic.”

“You are the only good thing that’s happened to me since that day.”

“And you’re not actually in love with me, by the way.”

But I do not have romantic feelings for you.”

I was no longer lovable. Note to self.

“I’m sorry, Margaret. I will always remember you.”

I’ll give it a year, I thought, and if I don’t feel any better, I’ll kill myself.

I went through a long, deep period of grief that involved bitterness, anger, mourning, judgment, rage, self-pity,

fear, longing, and loneliness—

Things went on like this for months—and months.

Ian’s mom.

When you don’t know what to do for yourself, do something for somebody else.

“smart, sophisticated, and with a just a touch of go-fuck-yourself.”

Needing to find reasons to live had forced me to build a life worth living.

The greater our capacity for sorrow becomes, the greater our capacity for joy.

“I cared about you.” Then he added, “Too much.”

“Because I didn’t want to be without you.”

Kitty shouted, “I’m not sick! I’m just pregnant!”

But you have to live the life you have. You have to find inspiration in the struggle, and pull joy out of the hardship. That’s what we try to do—counterbalance the suffering with laughter, fuzzy blankets, hugs, sing-alongs, sunny-day picnics, chocolate chip cookies, and wildflowers. Because that’s all we can do: carry the sorrow when we have to, and absolutely savor the joy when we can. Life is always, always both.