How I’ve Managed My Heartbreak

Post long term relationship breakdown aka a knife to the gut, I’ve been asked how I managed it all.

In the relationship, I became reliant. As much as I was empowered, independent, I began to grow increasingly dependent and happily so. The relationship was my safety net, my comfort, a beautifully convenient distraction from the disjointed relationship I had with myself.

When it was no longer, my loved ones were there, but I knew that this was ultimately just mine to manage.

Alone, I found myself at a crossroads, with what I saw as just two options –

1. to fall apart as I felt so inclined; or
2. to do everything in my power to keep from falling apart.

After it happened, I took a week off work, a week of mostly breaking, the prelude. I had to start work again. I loved my job and of course, I also needed it.

So, I chose Option #2.

I was broken, merely holding myself together, but I did, because I had to, I just had to. Option #1 was not viable. I was adamant that I would not allow what happened to impact, nor sabotage the positives in my life, and there were still so many – my job, my friends, my family, my independence and my future.

I took one day at a time, sometimes just by the hour. My emotions could have me soaring above it all, then just like that, I could nose dive, crashing into the pain. I tried to be kind, loving, understanding, and gentle toward myself. If I needed to break down, I gave myself a schedule – after work or on the weekends. At times, of course, unexpectedly I’d be confronted with a devastating surge. I had begun to understand that these particular surges, although very rare, had to be dealt with more care. I would take a day off work. I’d go for a walk, or I’d stay in bed all day. I would eat healthy, or I’d eat shit. I would journal, reach out to my loved ones, or I’d isolate myself completely.

I tried to give me what I needed. It was a constant negotiation with Self. I wanted to ensure we were working as one, doing our best not to over indulge in the shit, whilst still allowing a safe space to experience the necessary phases of healing.

Over a year later, I remain committed to Option #2. Although on numerous occasions, I’ve come so close, it’s in keeping myself from falling apart, that I continue to manage not to do so.

I owe so much to this painful, disorientating chapter of my life. I have learnt the true meaning of commitment, this time, to myself. Above all else, it has shown me, the profound power I posses within – the ability to ultimately decide how my story reads.

And for this, I’ll be forever grateful that what was, is no longer.