“I used to think one day we’d tell the story of us, how we met and the sparks flew instantly…” Thanks, T-Swift; you took the words right out of my mouth.

Everyone handles breaking up differently; that’s no secret. After a recent separation, I found myself playing tug-of-war between the sense of relief and the haunt of heartbreak. Either way, I was screwed.

Day 1: Confusion

I knew the break up was coming the second I saw my blue pants folded on the dinner table. The couple weeks of jumbled harmony led into a crescendo of this moment; the awkward tension and forced formality said it all. I couldn’t fathom how in one instant the person I found myself spending so much time with no longer wanted to spend that time with me. What changed? Why is he so calm? I mean, seriously, how can anyone handle this with such ease? So many wonderfully formed habits we developed together are being dismantled after a couple of obligatory words. The dedicated TV days, midnight cuddles, inside jokes (and repeating them often because he loves them so much), sickeningly sweet nick names, cheese plates… gone. So… now what? If I text, will he reply? Nothing makes sense.

I miss him, and I just walked out the front door.

Day 2-3: Continue to analyze every word of the conversation and remain confused

“It’s not you… It’s me.”

… Seriously? Okay, let’s just be real for a second. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my experience, it’s that when someone says that they aren’t “relationship material”, they’re trying to say they aren’t relationship material for you. I wasn't angry about it. How could I be? I couldn’t stop thinking about what I did wrong… because I had to have done something wrong, right? I can fix it. It was me, not them. I want to call, but now we’re strangers. Every encounter from here on out is awkward.

I miss him, and I can’t tell him.

Day 4-7: Wallow in heartbreak and embarrassment

So many unanswered questions have led me to jump from conclusion to conclusion quicker than a four year old pretending the carpet is lava. A simple complication or minor miscommunication started the snowball leading to the avalanche. There are so many things I wish he knew, so many walls up I can’t break through. I want to hold him and tell him things are okay. It can’t be over, we made so many plans. Don't let it be over.

I miss him. Oh God, I miss him.

Day 8: Nothing.

I left town for an amazing adventure over 1000 miles away. The second I got there and began to sing, I lost myself to the music. As I poured every wild emotion into the song, I had a moment of clarity: he didn't want to be with me. Maybe he did us a favor. Was he ever really mine? He is over and he is gone. The song ends and I felt nothing. And I was too preoccupied to think or feel anything else than what was in this moment.

7:53: His name popped up on my phone…But still, I feel nothing.

I don’t miss him.

Day 9: Distract myself with the future

I’m beginning to see how resilient I can be: Fighting tooth and nail for a spot on this tour, channeling every thought and ounce of energy into my craft, refusing to feel that rejection again. "There's something so special about you that we can't let go of yet.” The director says. What does that mean? I don't feel special. He didn’t think I was special enough to keep around. Still I text him in hopes of a reminder of the feeling I once had… but I don’t feel anything. Even on my weakest days I get a little bit stronger. I don’t need him to tell me why I’m special.

The day is about over and I see he’s texted me back… but suddenly he's not the person I want to talk to anymore. What changed?

5:30: I’m called back into the room to sing one more time. I give myself to the music again and I've unlocked something inside me. Every tear streaming down my face had become a vessel for anger, sadness, longing, and confusion to escape my heart. The song is over, and I feel relieved. I look into the mirror next to me and I see the same look of relief on my face as I saw on his a week ago. Has it only been a week? “There he is.” the director says. She's right…. here I am.

I miss my friends.

Day 10: Flooded with empowerment

The days here are getting longer. The competition is getting tougher. I’m alone, but I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I’m determined. I’m focused. My pulse is racing and my thoughts are spiraling. Life always waits for some crisis to occur before revealing itself at its most brilliant.

6:03 PM: His name pops up on my phone again. It haunts me like a ghost. He hadn't crossed my mind all day and after a brief glance at my screen, he falls back into the corners of my mind.

I miss my family.

Day 11-15: Celebrating myself

I’m reunited with my family. Things have never felt so perfect. I am not the same Zach and I couldn't be more proud of that.

I miss my adventure.

Day 16: Reflection

Today, I feel amazing in my own skin. I haven't been able to shake this smile off of my face for days. Opportunities are popping up everywhere and my inbox is full. The love I’m embraced with from my friends and family is so safe and warm. I’m happy. That’s it; I’m happy.

As I begin to unpack, I come across a small note he'd left me many months ago on a silly scrap of paper. My smile went away and I held it for a bit. I lost this note so long ago… and now, of all times, it presents itself to me. I realized that I had forgotten to miss him. Somewhere in the last week, I stopped itching to text him. Somewhere in the last week, I forced myself to not let him be the first one I call.

I’m sitting in the same room where we had our first four and half hour conversation, trying to figure out how that makes me feel. The room feels just as cold as did that night. My smile creeps back on my face when I remember that I could've talked to him another four hours that night.

I understand why I was with him, why I'm not now, and that I will be better than just OK. That door is closed for now, but it can open again because isn't that how doors work?

9:23 PM: I wish him a happy birthday.

I miss him, and that’s okay.