Harry Styles Broke My Heart, Then Helped Me Heal It
Maybe looping “From the Dining Table” for hours wasn’t a bad idea after all
Just to prove it has a sense of humor, the universe made sure my best friend and I went through rough breakups at the same time. While listening to our horribly sad (but very well-curated) collaborative Spotify playlist, certain lyrics started to hit differently from the first time I heard them. I have always loved “From the Dining Table” by Harry Styles, but when it was released, I couldn’t really relate to the lyrics. This time around, it felt like Harry ripped a page from my diary and set it to music. Instead of killing me softly, Harry chose emotional violence. All 3 minutes and 31 seconds were excruciating, yet I couldn’t stop listening. I wasn’t expecting to feel so personally attacked, but after paying more attention to the lyrics, it all started to make sense.
“Comfortable silence is so overrated”
Once you get used to a certain level of intimacy with someone, it seems impossible to adjust to anything less. When you used to know everything about them — their plans for the day, how they’re feeling, what they had for lunch — being left to wonder what’s going is completely disorienting. It’s like your favorite tv show getting canceled in the middle of the season.
When they were the first thing you woke up to and the last thing you thought about before you slept, how do you keep track of time without them? Losing someone like that destroys your emotional circadian rhythm. After all, how can you start your day if that “good morning” text never comes?
The uncomfortable realization I came to is that you have no choice but to give yourself the encouragement you need, then get moving. As time goes on, you begin to direct the loving attention you once gave them towards yourself. If you struggle with codependency like I do, at first, it will feel selfish and unnatural to prioritize yourself. Eventually, you’ll get into the habit of recognizing and fulfilling your needs and self-care will become more than a buzzword. It feels good to worry about myself for once, but I will admit, it’d be nice to know if you’re still ordering that same shrimp pad thai.
“Why won’t you ever say what you wanna say?”
This lyric hits me in the throat every time I hear it because I feel like this question is for me. Like anyone else, I get scared. In the past, I’ve been told that my emotions were too intense to share. Whenever I started to show affection, verbalize how much I cared or display other signs of becoming emotionally attached, the person would freak out and pull away. Over time, trial and error showed me that it’s better to keep my feelings to myself.
I want to be open and express myself, but when I do I feel like it’s too much too soon. I open my mouth and nothing comes out. I type a message, reread it, and immediately delete it. I’m feeling emotions that I have literally never felt before, but then push them aside so I can be “rational”.
I reassured myself that my journal doesn’t judge. I convinced myself that the only safe option is to pour my feelings onto the pages, but never to the person. If you love them, write it down. If you’re hurting, write it down. I write everything down and never tell the person, then get upset when they don’t know how I feel.
However, I’ve made the decision not to operate out of fear anymore. I’m learning to overcome the anxiety and stigma around being vulnerable. If I love you, I’m saying it. If you hurt me, I’m saying it. Next time around, I’m going to be open with how I feel so there’s no room for assumptions or miscommunications. Right now, I’m practicing being honest with friends and family in the hopes that with more practice, I’ll be able to do the same with my partner.
“Maybe one day you’ll call me and tell me that you’re sorry too . . . but you, you never do.”
It’s never easy losing a friend, partner or family member regardless of the circumstances. Life can feel like a living hell if the person you lost filled all three roles. The feelings you have for them don’t just disappear the second you decide to separate. Even if keeping your distance is the healthiest option, when nostalgia kicks in, it’s easy to forget why you’re even doing this in the first place.
You start to feel like you’d rather go back to the familiar pain of the relationship than be in constant mourning. You keep your phone by you at all times “just in case” and feel phantom vibrations that you secretly hope are notifications from them . . . but they never are. At some point, every day becomes a funeral for the life that you once had. It’s okay to mourn your loss, however, you can’t let that grief consume you. The most important thing I’ve learned while trying to piece my puzzled heart together is that healing is a non-linear process. Some days I feel like I’m truly moving on, but other days I’m back at the dining table . . . and that’s okay.
“Even my phone misses your call, by the way.”
-Camryn 💫
