Picking Up the Pieces

A little over a month ago, my whole world was turned upside down when what I thought was my forever relationship unexpectedly ended – and I was left on my own (quite literally) to pick up the pieces. As I navigated the initial shock, heartbreak, devastation, pain, anger, and cold panic that set in, my brain and heart did their best to catch up to the reality of what had transpired. Surely I had been through enough up until this point! A heart can only break so many times. To have thought that I had finally found my person, only for him to change his mind about us – and frankly renege on everything he initially said he wanted – has been absolutely devastating, a pain for which I do not possess the words. And layering this heartbreak on top of my existing depression has resulted in what I can only describe as living hell. But life has to go on – and I have (slowly) tried to begin picking up the pieces of my decimated heart, as I endeavor to figure out where to go from here.

Dazed and Depressed

In the “daze” that followed the break-up, time moved at a snail’s pace as I did my best to muddle through the bare minimum to keep things afloat and stay alive – and to make it to the end of the day, so that I could crawl back in bed and torture myself as I replayed every beautiful moment of our relationship in agony. I was grasping at straws, looking for anything that would make me feel better and less alone, even going to church that first weekend (and I am not normally a “church-goer”). As I lost what I can only imagine was close to half a liter of tears during the service, I had never felt emptier or more broken in my entire life than I did in that moment: it was as though M had reached into my heart cavity and ripped out the contents. And as I said to him, in what remains an unanswered message, “For what purpose?” I had lost all hope for the future, I realized – and I have thought about that constantly over the past month.

As can only be expected, May was truly miserable and will no doubt be a very triggering month for me in the years to come. I have no idea how I got through it – and mostly sober at that. Eating was next to impossible; sleep was disjointed at best, as I would constantly awaken during the night, gripped with panic when the reality of my loss would set in again; and everything, including things that normally bring me joy like running, was such a chore and truly a herculean effort. At no point have I felt even remotely normal or happy, except for when my dad was in town, on a “Heartbreak Hospital” mission as I dubbed it. But even the chance to see one of my favorite people, the only man who has never let me down or broken my heart, could only cheer me up so much. I have felt physically, emotionally, and mentally the weakest I’ve ever been (second only to October 2020 when I was navigating the discomfort of early sobriety and lingering withdrawals).

In some moments, it is impossible to focus on anything other than thinking about my ex and wishing that I could go back in time – that perhaps somehow, I could have handled myself better in our final days and saved the relationship from coming to an end. I have wished there was anything that could be said or done to change M’s mind about us or what he wants in life. I have talked to him far too many times (not “best practices” by any relationship guidebook standards, I’m sure), only to still have zero answers or clarity – and for us to be having such different “experiences” in the aftermath of the break-up fills me with unbridled rage, which I will admit is a welcome reprieve from the sadness. I don’t appreciate hearing that he’s “busier than ever”, while I’m sitting here wondering what I did to deserve even half of the pain and loneliness I’ve endured over the past decade or so. How a person could change their mind so drastically, not only in the span of a mere three months – from wanting marriage and commitment to not even wanting a relationship at all – but also over the course of just 24 hours, is beyond my literal comprehension. Whatever happened to forgiveness and second chances? Nothing has made sense and still doesn’t, as I endeavor to find the words to appropriately describe the aftermath of this decimation of my heart and the emotional rollercoaster on which I’ve been stuck. I have never been more sure of anything – and I thought that everything I had gone through prior to meeting him was all worth it to finally be with my person. I don’t understand how I could have been so wrong or missed the warning signs. I don’t know why this had to happen to me – or why we would have met to begin with, fallen madly in love, and spent the most incredible 13 months together, only for it to have ended. The questions and confusion linger in spades – and may surely drive me insane.

Relapse and Re-Recovery

As I continued grasping at straws and cobbling together things to look forward to, that might give me hope, I started attending a recovery group, in search of some comfort and reassurance, however small, that I was maybe going to be alright after my most recent (and not at all surprising) post-break-up relapse. And as a result of joining the recovery group, I am hopeful that I have made a new friend, someone in a similar situation without many friends in the area, who is also struggling with their mental health. It has taken a great deal of effort to look at those as positives: that, while I feel more alone than I have ever felt in my life, at least I summoned the courage to look for some support and to reach out for help in my time of grief and need. I have tried to be patient with myself, even though some days it feels as though I am regressing in my healing process, reminding myself just how important this relationship (and our love) was to me, and so of course it feels like my life is over. What I had built with M was incredible and quite frankly irreplaceable – and trying to accept that it’s gone feels like an impossible feat.

Losing Love

As I’ve cycled through unimaginable grief and sadness, peppered intermittently by anger and rage at what he’s putting me through, I’ve realized that this is not only painful because I lost what I had hoped was a lasting love, one where we would grow old together, but also everything else that our relationship represented. I didn’t just lose my boyfriend and one of my best friends; I also lost someone who made me feel like I was starting to build a little family here, when I had no one else. Not a day goes by where I don’t think of our bedtime routine of calling down “Good night – we love you!” to Basil, or how M just fit into our lives so perfectly. I thought for sure he was the missing piece of my puzzle. He was helpful, loving, generous, and thoughtful, until he wasn’t – and that is truly one of the hardest parts of this grieving process, realizing that he is not the same person that I fell in love with and trying to accept that not only has he changed, the circumstances have changed, too. But it wasn’t just about productivity and having someone to rely on: being silly with M made all the misery of adulthood (and this neighborhood) more bearable and knowing that I would see him at the end of the day made the monotony of work and life well worth the grind. The other day, I remembered one of my favorite quotes, that more than explains this sentiment. “They say a person needs just three things to be truly happy in this world: someone to love, something to do, and something to hope for.” (Tom Bodett) M provided both love and hope – and without it, I am left with an enormous void in my heart and in my life.

Hope for Healing?

There is nothing easy or fair about heartbreak, especially considering that I was banking on this relationship lasting forever, but perhaps, with enough passage of time, healing will finally come. In most moments, I am so overcome by my lack of hope, both for healing or frankly anything good, that it’s nearly impossible to think this will ever get easier or more manageable, or that the pain will one day fade to a numb dullness. I don’t know for certain that I will ever have hope for healing or for the future again. As I said to my ex, “This more than takes the cake” – and I mean that. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would be sitting here, typing these words, once again overcome with sadness – and never did I think that we would return to being strangers, going about our lives separately. Given the nature of what happened between us and how much emphasis I had placed on this relationship being the last one I would be in, it’s hard to imagine I will ever find a way to be happy again. My heart is exhausted – and so am I. There is a part of me that realizes I may never get the answers I so desperately seek; that any “lessons” from this relationship might never make themselves known to me, other than it being the wrong timing or a truly unfortunate set of circumstances. I may never understand why this relationship had to end or why the love was taken away from me – or how my ex could have hurt me in the ways that he did. All I can do is try to move forward with my life and give myself grace as I gingerly pick up the fragmented pieces of my heart, being careful not to hurt myself again in the process.