Breaking Up is (Really) Hard to Do

This post originated about six months ago, a draft tucked away in the recesses of my WordPress dashboard until I could will myself, in a moment of courage, to post it. Essentially, it chronicled my first real broken heart, and in it I comprised what I wanted to believe was my own unofficial cure-all for breaking up. It listed things like “Give Yourself Time to Grieve” and “Cultivate a New Hobby” in a formal bullet-point list, as if I had it figured out then. Written down it proved to me that I was fine, just fine. I was just sooo O-V-E-R him. Single-girl swag!!! And all that. But that post has been replaced by this one – a new understanding so clear that my very-much-nerdy 10 p.m. bedtime was postponed because it warranted immediate transcription to my blog. Because if I’m being honest with myself and with everyone else who’s put up with me for the past year, I don’t think “getting over” someone you cared about is as simple as getting a new haircut, losing 10 pounds, or taking up crocheting. It’s painful and hard. And I say this because for the first time in nearly a year, I’m beginning to feel it. CLOSURE.

After months of denial, of desperately hoping, of finding myself suddenly sobbing while hearing a certain song in the car, of haphazard emotions meeting both extremes, things are changing. The disappointment I chose to forget, the hurt feelings, and the red-flags I naively chose to ignore find themselves questioning the happy moments I had been focusing on singularly for as long as I can remember, sure that those few rays of light a relationship make. Rather, these sour moments have unearthed themselves in a sort of clarifying catharsis. All the things about me I could tell he didn’t like, or the time he didn’t even bother to call me back. Feeling destructively vulnerable, and watching as he was all too comfortable just leaving.

But rather than becoming toxic and a source of dangerous ground like I’ve allowed them to be for the past year, they are the means by which I am starting to be able to shed the burden and hurt that I’ve felt. I’ve learned that in my take-me-back longings, I’ve denied myself the better that I deserve, which includes enabling myself to forgive and recognize the ways that I can become more. That yeah, he was wrong. But so was I. That the relationship we had is not the kind we both deserve. I’ve recognized in a new way that yes, he’s special, and wonderful. That he is good, and will find someone that allows him to be those things that I wished for. And that I will, too.

It’s slow and I’m still learning. The burden I’m gradually shedding is painful. But for what feels like the first time, I can see more clearly a life without him, and without those hurt feelings that seemed ever-present. I can go through a day without my thoughts being absorbed with “us.” Without thinking of that green thermal or the first time he held my hand. And that song is just a song.

For the first time in a long time, I don’t have to chastise myself for feeling happy. I’m finally beginning to feel like it’s not the meant-to-be relationship I’ve been making it out to be all this time. And that it’s okay. That sometimes things don’t work out, and we move on, we learn and grow from it. That it’s okay to feel sad, and that trials are an inevitable and crucial part of life. That things will go on! I’m alive. I’m still breathing. And I have a lot to grateful and joyful for.

As President Dieter F. Utchdorf said: “…please understand that what you see and experience now is not what forever will be. You will not feel loneliness, sorrow, pain, or discouragement forever. We have the faithful promise of God that He will neither forget nor forsake those who incline their hearts to Him.” My Heavenly Father undoubtedly has a superior plan in place for my life than I have for myself, and in time and with proper righteous action on my part, I can seek His will, and find that clarity, perspective, and peace I desire.

And it is on that note that I mention in surety that I would be committing a grave injustice to my Savior if I said that He is not the reason that I’m finding this blessed capacity to heal. It is surely through obedience to the Gospel and living my life in accordance with embedded testimonial and eternal truths that I’ve been able to transcend this and many other temporal anxieties and concerns. As I’ve come to more fully catch a glimpse of the incomprehensible love and awareness that our Heavenly Father and Savior have for us and empathy of our individual grief, the more I recognize that they are the only true source to heal all wounds, comfort all afflictions, supply us power, and enable us to grow and become better. They are not ignorant of our suffering, even if we feel others may be. We are not asked to confront more than we can bear. He trusts us that much. And for that I am eternally grateful and indebted.

Phew. This is scary. But I’m going to press ‘publish’ now. Thanks for reading.


One response to “Breaking Up is (Really) Hard to Do

  1. Ouch! Good to write though, to purge the swirling emotions and channel them – that’s my way too. I’m feeling the urge to be protective cuz you’re just simply amazing and I hate knowing you’ve had heartache. But isn’t it great to know we can feel deeply?! Just keep on, keeping on!


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