Note: This post was from my old blog. Ideas and beliefs were those of a much younger soul and may no longer be representative of who I am.
I know all of my other posts so far have been lighthearted and fun, but tonight I feel like talking about some real shit. I think most people in my generation are generally afraid of having real conversations, of admitting they feel, they hurt, and they are human. We’re so used to putting on a front and pretending that everything is fine. But it isn’t always fine, and if we don’t own our feelings, we don’t progress.
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Recently, I had my heart broken for the first time. Sure, I have been hurt, disappointed, upset, and let down by men before, but this time it was different. I know by no means am I the first person to experience this. In fact, I may be the last of my friends to really go through it, who knows. All I know is that it is truly life altering experience that has a most ironically beautiful ending.
If you know me, or perhaps you can gather a bit about my personality from my previous posts, you would know that I am generally unemotional. I don’t express “real” emotions very successfully. I’ve had a lot of relationships where we were just “talking” or “dating,” but rarely have I had a relationship with a real label. Even more rarely do I see, want, and hope for a future with someone. I always say I don’t understand how that happens… how you marry someone, live with someone, want to have kids… But this time I wanted all that and more. I never considered an end. I never wanted the end. And then, all of a sudden, it ended. I was blind-sighted, confused, hurt, broken, surprised, and devastated #atthesamedamntime.
My heart was broken. And I knew this was something new for me because the feeling was something so unfamiliar and inexplicable. I had a hole in a part of my body I couldn’t locate. I had an itch in a place I couldn’t reach. There was a pain in a limb that didn’t exist. There was this discomfort that plagued everything I did, 24/7, that was resistant to even the strongest panacea. It was the first thing that came to mind every day when I woke up. It stayed on my mind every hour of the day. It sang me a jarring lullaby to put me to sleep.
Honestly, I didn’t think it would ever go away. All my friends told me that I just needed time, but the feeling felt so overwhelming and so uncomfortable that I couldn’t imagine that it would ever end. I genuinely did not believe I’d ever be myself again. I struggled through it, tried to stay distracted, but no matter what I was doing, where I was, or how hard I tried, this numbing discomfort was muffling my ability to feel joy. It felt irrational. It felt overdramatic. It felt unnecessary. And worst of all, it felt right. Occasionally I would have moments of fleeting happiness or even just a neutral emotional state, but the minute I noticed I had forgotten about it, I felt like I was doing something wrong. I didn’t want to be okay because okay meant that it was really over. I wanted to deny the reality of the situation.
Time passed but the feeling didn’t budge. It became more about getting through the days than actually enjoying the days. But then a miraculous thing started to happen… my undeniable discomfort forced me to change. They say at some point you stop feeling a physical pain because it normalizes… But a broken heart manifests itself in a different way every hour. You can’t normalize. In order to curb the pain, I had to look to friends for support, look at myself for answers, rely on my own strength. I could only blame him for so long. I had to start blaming myself. This turn brought out a new side of me.
In the place of my lifelong struggle with expressing emotions and having “real conversations,” I could no longer make it through an interaction with a friend without openly speaking of or sharing my deepest emotions. Rather than assuming my friends knew what they meant to me, I told them every day. Instead of pointing fingers, I started self reflecting. I learned so much. I opened up to the world in a way I didn’t know was possible. I grew closer to my best friends. I reconnected with old friends. I cried every day, but it was therapeutic. I think I must have shed every tear I’d repressed for the last 27 years.
A switch was permanently flipped, and while it hurt like hell, I can say it has been the single most effective impetus for change in my personal life thus far. I refuse to accept the treatment I used to put up with. I refuse to allow anyone in my life who doesn’t serve a positive purpose. My standards are forever raised. My conversations are truer. My emotions are deeper. I learned there’s no shame in being emotional. I learned that communication is a lot more than just words. Feeling is being strong. Admitting weakness is courageous. Acknowledging imperfections is brave. Working on yourself is perhaps the most difficult and most powerful thing you can ever do.
True, if this is the most painful experience I’ve endured in my life, I am lucky. I know this. But unless you’ve had your heart broken, you’ve had unrequited love, and you’ve faced the rejection of someone who you thought once felt the same… you can’t comprehend the feeling. While I feel wrong wishing pain on anyone, I think everyone could benefit from a broken heart. It’s beautiful, in the most awful way.
The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers.”
– M Scott Peck
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