This Time Feels Different
This time feels different than the first time we broke up.
The first time I was completely liberated; it was difficult to adjust, but still very freeing.
This time it feels like standing in the eye of a hurricane. It feels like time is standing still and then you realize it’s June.
Mick Jagger describes it perfectly: “as I watch you leaving me, you pack my peace of mind.” When someone has your heart — and this person still has mine — and they go, what are you left with? Your daily routine goes to shit. The person you want to tell things to, even though you know what they’ll say, but you like that because it’s comforting — that’s just gone. Your expectations of what love is are shattered. So you literally have to mourn this person, mourn the life you thought you could have, mourn your daily routine. You go through the 5 stages of grief; I’m currently somewhere between depression and acceptance.
Everyone wants the secret to avoiding heartbreak and getting over it as quickly as possible. But there’s no advice anyone can give you. Everyone has suffered through some sort of heartbreak and we think we have answers, but even being able to relate to the feeling because you’ve experienced it in the past isn’t the same as going through it right then and there. I’ve experienced plenty of heartbreak, massive amounts of pain, so I think I can handle it when it happens again. You’re never ready for it; nothing makes you immune. So my secret is that you have to feel it. And it feels unbearable. But I’ve gone from crying on the floor almost every day to crying on my couch maybe once a week…and that’s progress.
And I’ve got a bunch of things to thank for that: lots of “The Office”, lots of “Queer Eye”. Old Rolling Stones performance videos. “Used to Be” by the Jonas Brothers: please stand up and take several bows — you got me dancing in the shower, the car, while I’m cooking dinner. Watching the Bachelorette with friends every week. And dogs, lots and lots of dogs. And even writing to Midnight Woman.