Suck it up…

I’ve been told all of the cliche bits of advice when it comes to dealing with the end of a relationship. The one I heard the most often was from my boss, who would half jokingly tell me to “Suck it up. Stop being a baby.” I know she means well but it does and doesn’t help that it was her friend whom I was dating.

I figured there were two paths for someone who’s just turned single; moving on from the past and building or finding a better future with someone else…or lingering in the sadness and pain of what was a time in your life you cherished.

It’s difficult to take the suggestions from people who are in happy, loving relationships because, well, they are in happy loving relationships. I once confronted my boss and coworker with the “What if your significant other broke up with you?” question.

They quickly but defensively replied that it would never happen to them. That their relationships were rock solid, infallible, perfect. My first and only (so far) relationship was far from perfect. A secret affair with a coworker who happened to be my best friend, someone I viewed as close to a little sister as I could ever have.

There were days I thought I had moved on from the breakup. I was doing new things outside of my comfort zone, hanging out with new people, and just enjoying life again. Yet there are still those days of crippling loneliness that make me miss my ex-girlfriend even though I shouldn’t be feeling any of those emotions.

Moving on and letting go isn’t as easy as they say it is. I don’t think it’s supposed to be easy contrary to all of the inspirational quotes floating around. It’s been said that you can’t love someone if you don’t love yourself. I know people who are infinitely better human beings than me, full of positive vibes and hope.

But…their social media posts also hint at that desire to be loved by someone. Their loneliness leaking out of the happy facade they’ve put up. I think whatever happy front I displayed is cracked to the point the anger, bitterness, jealousy and depression have formed a vicious mask.

Even as I type this out, there is a storm outside my bedroom window. The rain pelting the glass, the thunder booming and the intermittent flashes of lightning, all making me think about my ex. She would always call me during storms because they scared her. I’d talk to her over the phone til she felt safe and comfortable enough to fall asleep. I want to text or call and ask if she’s okay, but I know it’s not my concern anymore, that’s for her new boyfriend to take care of.