I’ve received my fair share of breakup advice. I’ve heard it all. I’ve given the same pieces of advice to others. They tell you that time heals. They tell you that you will find something better. They tell you that they weren’t that great, anyways, that you should focus on putting that love into yourself, that you should block their number and never let yourself fall into him again. They tell you that you will be happy about it, soon enough.
But they don’t tell you how much it hurts— emotionally, and physically. They don’t tell you that you can throw your back out from sobbing and heaving so hard. They don’t tell you about the pit in your stomach when you see photos of them with someone else. They don’t tell you about the feeling of helplessness, when there is nothing you can do besides cry and thrash your legs and shove your face into a pillow. I’ve yet to find a way to describe the hurt that seems to cut so deep, when crying as hard as you can isn’t enough. It feels like there needs to be another way, better than tears, to release what has built up inside of you.
They don’t tell you that you can be having a relatively good day and still burst out in tears at the sound of their name in your head. Or how driving past a certain road or hearing a certain song can serve as a reminder of everything that you’re trying to forget.
They don’t tell you how many times the hurt can swallow you whole. It’s unforgiving. Relentless. They don’t tell you that healing is not linear. The hurt of a breakup is not on any schedule. It’s not as simple as eating ice cream, wrapped up in a blanket on the couch for a week. It’s having one good day and two worse. It’s falling apart again when you think you’ve kept the sadness at bay. They don’t tell you that.
They don’t tell you that, eventually you will see this person with someone else. And when you do, you will never stop thinking. You will create scenarios inside your head until it spins. You will place her in every spot that once held you. They don’t prepare you for that, because they can’t.
They don’t tell you how it feels to miss them. They don’t tell you that you will forget everything horrible that happened and only remember the feeling of being wrapped in their arms. They don’t tell you that you will yearn for them, and you will miss them, regardless.
They don’t tell you how hard it is to sleep. When you can’t lay still without thinking about them, rest is impossible. They don’t tell you about the puffy, bloodshot eyes because you stayed up all night crying. And they don’t tell you how lonely that feels. They don’t tell you that you’ll screw up a few times. You want to be the stronger one that gets out unscathed. But you will call them, and you will text them, and probably make several more mistakes. And you will regret it.
But you will get through it. Like the old saying, time heals. Time is your best friend and worst enemy when it comes to heartbreak— it is the only thing that can heal you, but there’s no answer for how long it will take.
But once your heart is healed? You will find love again. Likely, multiple times, and each time will be better than the last, if you let it.
And you will have learned. When you’re in it, swallowed up by it, you can’t see all of the things that you will see a year later. You will realize what you won’t allow yourself to put up with any longer. You will uncover what is truly important to you in a partner and what can’t be forgiven. And when you do, you open yourself up to relationships that are more fulfilling than anything that came before.
You will heal. I won’t feed you sugar-coated fluff that convinces you that what you’re going through doesn’t suck— because it does. There is nothing worse. But a better time will come. Be patient with yourself, and let it.