June 24th, 2016
Right now, I'm in a tour bus on my way to the next little stop on our European tour. Just a few days ago, on our last night in Paris, my boyfriend broke up with me. And then once more a few days later in Barcelona, after saying he wanted me back.
This isn't an article to bash on said ex-boyfriend, or to make myself in some way feel better; this is instead a story about dealing with heartbreak. This story is for anyone else who feels this incomprehensible, gut-wrenching pain, or for those who have felt it, or for those who will.
The first hour after being dumped in one of the most romantic cities in the world was awful, to say the least. I couldn't decide if I wanted to live or die or hurt or hurt him or act like I was fine or accept the fact that I wasn't. Melodramatic sounding, sure, but true. There was an incredible pain in my chest, my head was pounding, my stomach clenching in a most painful way, and the hyperventilating didn't help any of that. I was incredibly lucky to have the people around me that I needed at that precise moment. My friend stayed with me through my "I don't understand" cries and held me to calm my breathing. I even texted my mom, and she came at some odd hour of the night to help me through it. Then my other friend and roommate came, and they all stayed and helped me to get through a pain so intense that I had never felt before. They stayed up with me all night, catching only a few hours of sleep before our four AM wake-up call. Basically, what I'm saying is don't be alone if you can help it. Surround yourself with people who care for you, who can tell you to pick yourself up because you deserve better than what you got. Let yourself cry. Be a mess for a few hours, let yourself feel that pain, because as hard as that is, it is also the shortest part. The pain so strong it physically affects you is the shortest part, so let yourself feel it, get it out, so you don't have to feel that intensity again.
The next morning, I felt as if I was dying. As if dying would be fine, because at least then I wouldn't have to feel this. The worst part is I had to see him, he's on this European trip, which my parents paid for him. I felt so lost, so awful, I just wanted him to come back and love me like I thought he did. It took all my energy to not use some form of distraction as my means of escape, I could have so easily become an alcoholic, smoked cigarettes, self-harmed, or something in that sense. But I realized I couldn't do that, because I need to be happy in the long run, not become abusive towards myself. This was the hardest part, the pain of feeling lost and alone. My best friend was gone, my other half, the kind of love people told stories about. Instead, it had been replaced with a deep, gross pain that I will never have the words for.
The next day, my ex-boyfriend wanted to talk. I told him we could talk at lunch, but of course he came up to me at my favorite site in Barcelona, Parque Guëll. I regret not being able to enjoy that. He said he was so sorry and wanted me back and all these things, though I wasn't entirely conviced it was all true. Then an hour later, at La Sagrada Familia, he did a 180 and said he wanted to break up indefinitely. This time, I was still hurting so much that more heartbreak wasn't really doable, so I handled it pretty well. I didn't break down again, I just told him my parting words and went to the people who truly did care for me. My friends cared for me in such an attentive, genuine and much-needed way that I survived two breakups in two days. I don't know where I would be without those friends, and my parents.
To be honest, I put off writing this. I didn't want to relive it, no matter how well I'm doing now. I didn't want to give him the time of day, didn't want to waste my words on his lies, but I realized that I had to write this for myself. I had to let others know that I was going through this pain. This isn't me giving him my words, it's me explaining one of the most unpredicted and painful experiences of my short life, and about how I am strong and smart enough to get through it.
I'm doing much better now. This all happened only a few days ago, but I bounced back, as my dad says, like Tiger. This experience has made me so grateful for the people around me, and proud of myself. I asked for help when I needed it, I listened to advice, and I listened to myself. Above all, my friends and family were my rocks. I am slowly rebuilding the foundation of me thanks to them, because of their selflessness, because of their own past, and present, heartache. They taught me what I could have learned the hard way, and uplifted me when I was the lowest I've ever been.
The healing process has been a roller coaster, just like everyone said it would. Some days I feel like my life is currently pointless. Other days I am so happy I can't contain it. I think the best thing to do is to not let yourself sit in a puddle of sadness, to smile even if you don't feel like it. Smile because you deserve it.
This is just a first-draft work. I am too tired, too drained to pour myself into this as I normally would. My head is working double-time or not at all, and my heart still physically hurts with every beat. But I will get better, and I will be better because of this. This god-awful process has taught me a lot of invaluable lessons already, and I am really just looking forward to the part where it gets better and stays better. But at least I know it will come.
