What do with love after a break-up?

What to do with the love…

All break-ups happen for unique reasons and I understand that, for many people, it is because they are no longer in love with each other or no longer love each other at all. (I believe that there is a difference between the two.)

But what happens if you decide to break up but you still love one another? Where do you “put” that love?

I have heard that one definition of grief is “having love with nowhere for it to go.”

Now, I am not comparing a marriage separation to the death of a loved one, not at all, but I understand that there is still an element of grief experienced.

No one gets married or commits to a long-term partnership with the intention of it prematurely coming to an end.

I believe that there is a difference between being “in love” to the deeper, more solid love formed over time. Layers upon layers of love, like the ever-evolving land upon the Earth’s crust, the most ancient being the foundation of who we once were when we first met and strengthening through the experiences of our lives together.

The most sacred parts being the bonding of parenthood or the intimacy of grief. The ups and downs, the highs and lows, and the mediocre.

Love is a living entity—ever-evolving, sentient, and tangible—encasing us and giving us hope, stoking the joy within us, and holding power to inflict us with the worst pain.

I did not end my marriage because I no longer loved my husband; I ended it because I no longer loved myself. This realisation was both cataclysmic and epiphanic, and the need to love me was not frivolous; it was imperative.

Quite simply, my whole life depended on it. (But that’s a different story for a different day.)

So here I am, still, with all of that love. Clueless as to what to do with it.

I can express it in the form of respect, kindness, compassion, sensitivity toward him. But I cannot express it physically, as that would be inappropriate, overstepping the boundaries, entering a realm of confusion, possibly even the realm of disrespect toward him and myself.

So, for now, I sit here, a phoenix slowly and rather clumsily rising from the ashes. I am left with a whole load of love that I really don’t know what to do with.

Too sacred to wish death upon an immortal flame that can not be extinguished. Too big and too powerful to simply throw to the wayside.

Maybe I could transfer it to my empty cup, which I must pour from—this love that I need to give to myself.