I’m writing this on the plane from SFO to PDX. Getting to airports and planes are a pain, but there’s always something peaceful about being strapped into my seat, 30,000 feet up in the air, with my fate already decided for me and out of my control. My body, heart and mind are completely exhausted, and I’d love nothing more than to fall into my bed and cry out all my feelings until there’s nothing left but numbness and a mascara-smeared, snotted up pillow.
Because that’s step number one, accepting the loss and letting yourself drown in it. Up until now, I hadn’t completely accepted the breakup, even though I knew that hoping for a different outcome would only be setting myself up for disappointment. I didn’t want to heal yet because I still missed him so much, or maybe it was just the memories. I went to San Francisco anyway and had the most wonderful and bittersweet last moments with him, a week that ended with my heart broken all over again (But I’m okay, because I still love San Francisco.)
The state of our heart is important. It leaks into everything we do, and it shows in the energy we release into the world. I can physically feel my heart when it’s full and strong and pouring out cheer and good vibes to everyone around me, from Lyft drivers to my best friends. At times, I feel obligated to always be positive, happy and excited about everything, but it gets tiring when I don’t feel the same inside. When I’m heartbroken I just need to take a little break in order to be whole again, and that’s okay. Currently I feel like someone has shattered a glass chandelier in my chest (god those things are expensive) and the shards are stabbing me to death. But I’ll still smile as I pass TSA.
For now, I’ll let myself be sad. I feel hurt, alone, disappointed, unlovable and empty. I’ll lay alone in the dark in bed with a tissue box and run through all the things that could have gone differently. I’ll remember kissing him in the woods and ordering sushi in bed and how much admiration I had (still have) for him and the way he always did the dishes. I’ll own this sadness, force ALL of it up to the surface, until I don’t have any left. Eventually I’ll realize that no amount of tears will bring him back, and there are bigger and better things for me to do. Carrying around heartache around gets heavy, and it’ll be time to let go. I don’t want to waste any more time moping over a relationship that he probably doesn’t even think about. My brain will be so tired of thinking about him I’ll just start wondering about what Kanye will tweet next instead. I’ll remember all the amazing people and food I have in my life, and start thinking about traveling again. Once I hit that point, I will already be half way done healing.
I’m really not there yet, but I feel better knowing that I’ll be just fine.