The Beauty in Breakups
I’m so tired of going through the motions of breakups. It amazes me that each one stings differently. The agony is simultaneously novel and familiar. Like, how many unique ways can I have my heart broken? I don’t actually want to know. But with the pain of any separation comes a silver lining—there’s always something better waiting on the other side. The sooner I let go of what’s behind me, the sooner I can soak up new beginnings. Writing this feels bittersweet. It signals my acceptance of the end of a road.
Healing isn’t linear. Yesterday I cried throughout the day after thinking I was in a good place emotionally. In the morning the tears hit me like a ton of bricks and I knew it was going to be a heavy twenty-four hours. I even burst into tears immediately after climaxing during what was meant to be a brief reprieve from sadness. I allowed it. I went through old texts, did some internet stalking, and replayed our story a dozen times. I took a nap, apathetically ignored messages rolling through my family’s group chat, and listened to triggering songs. Around 4:30pm, with just enough time before sundown, I peeled myself out of bed to go for a run.
It reminded me that beneath the disappointment and devastation, there’s a spirit that needs and deserves nurturing and mending. Even though it took all day, it was crucial that I get in a vertical position and move. I knew that exercise would be an impetus for positive chemical reactions in my brain. It was a first step to having a better twenty-four hours the next day, and the day after that.
Since I was 17-years-old the stages of my breakups have all looked pretty similar. There’s the initial jolting shock, denial, excruciating discomfort and longing, and then finally, acceptance and rebirth. The phases last different lengths of time depending on the nuances of each relationship, but I feel like each time around they’re generally a bit shorter. I once read that it takes half the amount of time a relationship lasted to fully get over it. As I get older it gets a little easier to recover. There’s less beating myself up about what I could’ve done differently, and more understanding the different dynamics at play.
In the past I made grand gestures to woo my exes back, lost a significant amount of weight from loss of appetite, and creeped incessantly on social media. I’m so glad at this point in my journey I know how to keep my dignity intact and take care of my well-being.
When I’m hurting I’m growing. That’s essentially what suffering a romantic split is—a growth spurt. For me, the best part of a breakup is I get to reinvent myself. In relationships I often shape-shift to align with my partner. In the end limiting walls fall away, revealing a grittier, more refined version of me. I have more tools for coping and facing the dating world’s adversities under my belt. I don’t feel as naive to the many ways things can go awry.
I know I may still have unexpected bad days, but I also know I’m a step closer to finding what I’m looking for, and that makes me happy. I’m so excited to see what fascinating person I’m going to meet next and how our narrative will unfold. I’m even more pumped to be inspired by it and share it through my passions of writing and storytelling. Stay tuned.
