let the heartbreak break you
While I want to avoid the whole “end of the year,” “I’m so grateful for everything 2024 taught me,” “2025 please be good to me” post, I find it necessary and significant to reflect on what this year has been like.
In December of 2023, I ended a relationship I had previously thought would end only in marriage. And it didn’t end because of some egregious sin we committed against each other, or because there was no love left. It ended because, at the end of the day, there was a disconnect in morals, in ethics, and in values. To be clear, this person was not an amoral monster nor did I inherently question his values. We were just different, fundamentally. And I could not remain in a relationship where I had to scream to be heard and explain myself until I was blue in the face to be understood. And whilst the relationship ended at my hands, I grieved it. Deeply and profoundly.
I rushed the healing in the beginning. Overwhelmed with a relief and independence and ease I had not know in years, I sought attention and validation in different ways. I danced with friends all night and made reckless decisions. I took myself out on dates, I indulged in a new bedspread- relishing the idea that it was one that he would never know. I was full blown living my best life, in the most chaotic of ways.
By the time January ended, he was already beginning a new relationship. And then the heartache really sank its teeth in. I couldn’t fathom it, the idea that he had found intimacy with someone new so quickly. I questioned my decision, endlessly. I needed to talk about our relationship and him for hours. I questioned what I had meant to him, I felt misled and disillusioned. I was angry, viscerally angry. Angry not only at him but at myself, wondering if I had thrown away the only shot I had at the “forever” thing.
And then the breakup songs were on a loop and I was screaming “I WOULDN’T MARRY ME EITHER” and crying on my way home from work. I was watching everyone I am close to (literally everyone) fall into happy relationships and marriages and I loathed them for it. I searched for distractions, for anything that would lead me to believe that this was not the end of the world. I had a sinking feeling that I was set to be on the outside for the rest of my life and I couldn’t grapple with it.
And then I would feel like it was better, it was finally over, and I’d find that hope again. I went on good dates and found meaningful connections and flirted with strangers in bars and did my time on various dating apps. I felt the excitement of the chase and the butterflies in my stomach. I got my hopes up, time and time again. And then they were leveled, time and time again. I was disappointed and hurt, but also did the disappointing and the hurting.
All the while, I was missing him. Believing in some way, shape, or form that we would endure this and come back together as we had so many times before. But it was the missing him, the yearning, that tore me down. The ache was palpable and relentless, and it reared its head in unexpected moments. Like driving by a road that shared his name or hearing a song that reminded me of a day we spent together.
But it slowed. It dulled and sputtered to a stop. And I don’t need to go into details on what that felt or looked like because frankly, that’s besides the point. The point is, you have to let the heartbreak break you. The feelings are going to be there regardless, so you might as well lean into them and give yourself the time and space to feel them all. Hit rock bottom and then rise. Be angry, confused, and shocked and let it turn into gratitude, hope, and elation. Let the relief and pride and curiosity coexist with regret, betrayal, and fear. Be spiteful and hateful and vindictive and self-loathing and watch it contort into growth and connection and clarity. Be all of it, feel all of it. Because that is when you get back to yourself.
To bending, breaking, repairing, shattering, and mending,
Lo
