I know it’s been a while since I’ve done a little mental health check-in on here. How have I been moving on from a breakup?
Sixteen months have passed since my break up when I felt my life fall to pieces before my eyes. And you know what? I’m finally feeling really good and happy. Wow, that feels so good to write down.
I’ve finally reached that point in the journey that I could have never imagined sixteen months ago. I’m glad it happened. I feel relief, and I feel pity. Don’t get me wrong; there are still things that are triggering and a few unresolved feelings, but by and large, I’m feeling really good. Though I’m definitely also at that phase where I think all men are trash. Not sure I’ll ever get over that, haha.
When it happened, I consciously shared my feelings about it publicly; the bag, the growth, and hopefully, the good. This was not easy for me. When you experience that amount of pain, betrayal, and trauma, I think some ancient instinct kicks in, encouraging you to hide. My inclination was to throw my phone off a bridge and run away. With our borders in New Zealand still closed, I couldn’t run far.
Like many of us, I don’t like the theatrics of social media, how no one shares the mess, pain, or lessons instead of handing out wisdom and perfection afterward. I wanted people to feel seen, that I know that specific circle of hell that most of us go through at least once in our lives.
It was important to me for people to know that they weren’t alone in their suffering. I was there with you. Sometimes moving on from a breakup felt impossible.
And perhaps the most surprising part? You all helped me, too; you guys really had my back. So many messages of hope and care pinged into my inbox, providing little snippets of serotonin and comfort just when I needed them. I can’t thank you guys enough for that.
As a profoundly pensive person, I reflect a lot on the past, especially lately.
Do you know what’s really wild? I don’t remember most of last year. Like, I literally can’t remember where I was, what I was doing, or how I was feeling. I don’t even really remember much of writing my book! It’s as if my brain chose to block out everything during those horrible months. I was half alive, just going through the motions of day by day to get me going. Then little by little, things began to flip from bad to good again.
Slowly, as time went on (the only cure to a broken heart, along with a shit ton of therapy), I felt a little lighter. My eyes lifted, and I began to laugh more. I started to say yes to socializing. It took me over a year to begin to not feel like a zombie.
Now I look back at least a year and don’t recognize myself from last year. Who was that half-dead girl? Was it really me?
Now I feel so much stronger than I have ever felt before. I’ve learned some big lessons (not that I asked for them). I feel confident in a way that I haven’t been for a long time – funny how being gaslit for years will do that to you. And I see so many red flags I had ignored repeatedly in my past.
There are only a few things that still really upset me. The main one is that I feel like a total failure like I wasted years of my life.
Even now, sometimes I wake up crying, thinking this isn’t what I imagined for myself at 34. It feels like I’m starting over as I failed at life. Sometimes I still get mad at myself, thinking, “you should have done this” or “why didn’t you do that.” But then I stop, take a breath, and remind myself that I did my best when dealt shitty cards. Self-love is a constant process.
The life I planned is gone, and it’s never coming back. This is something I fight every day to make peace with. But I know it’s time to let it all go and start a new chapter. And starting new chapters as you get older is scary and hard, am I right?
I’ve got one more big, horrible, painful, icky thing to do soon that I’m dreading. Deep breaths. Big gulps. I’ve got this. You’ve got this. We’ve all got this. Now let’s fucking go!
What are your tips for moving on from a breakup? I’m curious. Share!