I can hear you now, “Oh no, here she is with another preachy post (eye-roll optional).” Joke’s on you though, reason being that in this particular instance I can’t even begin to craft a ‘how-to’ guide on what I’m going through. Mostly because I haven’t yet gracefully emerged on the other side of it. I’m still in the midst of the ‘going through’.
Oh, breakups and rejection. Remember that Sheryl Crow song that goes, ‘The first cut is the deepest”? Yeahh, not quite. For me, every cut I get hurts just as bad as the last. Actually, the way things tend to go, I’m almost always left feeling like each breakup (and the hurt that comes with it) is 20x worse than the last.
This closed door, this ended chapter has hurt particularly because he seemed to be the most committed, most serious about me and most genuine. Talks of and plans made for a future convinced me, more and more, that there was actually one for us. I was woefully wrong though; and lied to. Made to believe that I/we had a chance when he had checked out a long time ago, without telling me (until now). Hannah Louise explains the hurt of this really well in her own recent post about breakups.
So, here I am weeks after I day I didn’t see coming, and hoped I never would have to experience. How have I been doing? I’m still trying to figure that out myself, truth be told. But I can tell you what I’ve been doing to dull the pain and dry the tears, hopefully for good.
As you do. The migraine-inducing, puffy-swollen eyed crying where your nose stuffs up and you can barely breathe kind of crying. The toughest part has been waking up with said migraine to face the workday armed with my biggest smile. And the next day. And the next.
I’ve turned to my friend Cadbury for ‘comfort’
Again, as you do during times like these (hey, no pretending you don’t do it too!) Friends, this is not the time for baby carrots, hummus and roasted brussel sprouts. Has it worked any miracles? Not particularly. But coupled with a yummy cuppa and a Netflix series, it has eased many nights of self-deprecating thoughts and “I miss him”s. Don’t just take my word for it though, the Telegraph can back me up; according to them, chocolate contains phenylethylamine (PEA), a chemical which, when released, encourages your brain to release feel-good endorphins.
I’ve been reading up on all the right words
After awhile, Netflix and chocolate alone only does so much. As the days have gone by, the steady stream of tears have lessened bit by bit and the negative self-talk has also faded away slightly. In its place, I’ve begun reading the musings of authors and bloggers that serve my hurting heart far better than my own. It takes a lot for me to fight against someone else’s thoughts and feelings about me not stinging to the point where they become my own. Especially when my heart was wholly invested in them (in this case, him). I’m still a work-in-progress there. So in my efforts to silence the rejection-laced words, arguments that keep repeating themselves in my head, Cleo Wade’s Heart Talk and several of my favourite blogs (hello, Sade over at In My Sunday Best) have been on heavy rotation. In recent weeks, the girl who does all she can to help others has desperately needed her own share of encouraging words, somewhat unable to help herself (and that’s okay). I urge you to add Heart Talk to your bookshelf; your heart will certainly need it someday.
I got some ‘green therapy’ & went back to healthier habits
(No, not that kind of green ‘therapy’.) Lately I’ve had to navigate days when the four walls of a room become too stifling. It’s a bit challenging to explain, but all I can say is that being outside felt like the natural (no pun intended) remedy for many days of sheer overwhelm. One dear friend of mine always had a way of saying “go for a walk” when I express feelings of frustration or sadness. Now, I don’t even need to be told. While spending a few minutes (or sometimes hours, on the weekends) hasn’t changed my heart-state overnight, being outside helps me to take deep, deliberate breaths, forces me to observe little things beyond myself. At the risk of waxing philosophical, sitting outside puts me in a place where the big world around me engulfs me to the point where everything else feels strangely small. Not mad at that. At all.
Also, there’s only so much chocolate a girl can eat before that pesky pimple makes an appearance, or the guilt of extra inches piling on rears its ugly head. I am not a regular junk-foodie, so after a time my body tends to say “Okay Talisa, something a bit better, please?” Whilst soaking up the sun and getting my ‘green therapy’ in, I’ve put away the chocolates and headed to the local Holland & Barrett for more natural and healthier snack choices.
I’m reflecting by writing
You haven’t forgotten that I am the poster-child for journaling, have you? Writing in my journal is one of the fail-safe ways I have always been able to destress and make sense of a range of situations. It’s not all roses though, sometimes in writing I am forced to uncover the tough stuff, and the harsh truths beneath the situation before me. This time, I’ve been able to uncover that I have a bad habit of wanting something but not believing I can have it. I have a bad habit of transferring my own self-defeating thoughts onto a guy that may care about me, convinced that he doesn’t (especially if the guy before didn’t). Then it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Like I said, I am a work in progress; especially when it comes to relationships and love.
Most of all, I’m willing to try again
Some days you can probably find me doing any combination of these things; sometimes an hour set aside for journaling leads to tear-stained pages and a headache in tow. Gotta take the bad days with the good, right? Each day has been different though, and as the weeks go by I feel just a smidge better than the week before. And I am thankful for those moments when I realise, ‘Hey, you didn’t cry today!’. They give me that gentle push needed to trod on. And most of all as the days go by, and as the lessons sink in, I think about what’s next. Now that Sheryl Crow song we talked about earlier is stuck again. Mostly the end though, where she sings “…try to love again…”.
Here’s to trying. Maybe not today, but soon.One Girl's Attempt At Healing from Hearbreak Click To Tweet
(*All products showed within this post were purchased by the author. No sponsorships or gifted products involved.)
Shop this post: