A Year of Love and Self-Growth
I got my heart broken earlier this year. I’ll spare you the details but it was not a clean break. In fact, it was quite gory. I can only speak on my behalf but I know that I spent the first few months this year trying desperately to put it back to its former, ice-queen status. However, I’ve come to the realization that this was terribly necessary in order for me to become the person I am today, someone I’m actually starting to like.
If you asked any of my friends, those who have known me over the past six years, most will tell you that I am, to some varying degree, emotionally unavailable. This includes friendships, relationships (I’ve only had two, though, so instead think of it more like the “talking” phase), and my family. Since I went through a series of unfortunate events that started in middle school, I have given people only a certain amount of myself. In fact, a few friends of mine would tell me that they wanted to see me cry because it had just never happened in front of them. In reality, I cried all the time.
When I met the guy that broke my heart it seemed as if he’d entered from nowhere. The emotional flood gates opened. THEY OPENED. Never in my life had I been able to show all sides of myself to someone. Of course, I have best friends, a few I consider to be family, but I hid vital parts of my story from them. I don’t know why I did not disclose this information. I knew they would always love me, but it was as if I had duct tape over my mouth and as hard as I kept trying to speak, the words wouldn’t come out. The very first night I met this guy, he saw me. For some unexplained reason, he was the thing to weave its way into my heart and, for better or worse, I tried my best every day to be every bit of myself with him.
As a kid, I truly thought that someone would come into my life and take all the sadness away. However, as I got older I knew that was not the case, but still, this thought would sneak into my brain. As a (somewhat) grown woman and proclaimed feminist, this rather infuriated me. I thought I was above those feelings. So, for a bit of time when I was dating him, I thought I had never felt happiness like that before and that he was the key to keeping that alive.
Because of this, when we broke up, I thought the world was ending. Of course, my first heartbreak had to be at the beginning of a pandemic and alas, I could not have a girls night out or simply flirt with some in-class cutie to make myself feel better. Nope, I really got to marinate in it. Oh boy, it was not pretty and one of my brothers so graciously called me out on my ragged appearance after a few too many days watching TV on the couch.
I had finally experienced the gut-wrenching heartbreak I had only heard and seen of within these shows, even the cliché bits I thought only occurred in writing.
Now, almost a year after meeting him, five hair colors, two piercings, three tattoos, and a whole lot of self-care later, I am the most content I’ve been with my life in years. And as much as I hate to say it, my willingness to be vulnerable now is all thanks to him.
I know things change and that I will have many more trials in my lifetime but right now, I want to savor this. I’m on the other side of it. Not to brag, but I am very proud of myself. I never thought I would make it to where I am today. I do miss him at times and I feel as if a piece of me will always belong to him. In this way, I am similar to the millions of other people who have gotten their hearts broken. How else could there be so much art about it? This relationship made me who I am at this present moment and although I do not believe that everything happens for a reason, I believe I am better for having let him in.
