What My First Breakup Taught Me About Life

read this if you're feeling really sad. or really happy. or in between. just read it.

i remember my first breakup feeling like the true end of the world. it was 2 a.m., and we were in a Super 8 Motel on the side of the highway in Austin, Texas. if that description alone doesn’t make you feel sick, i don’t know what else will— it was the kind of place where the fluorescent lights buzz just a little too loudly, and the smell of old cigarettes hangs in the air.

we were lying in each other's arms as he told me, “you’re just not the Pam to my Jim,” in reference to the tv show The Office. my black lace bra, the one i bought at the start of our relationship and refused to get rid of even though it was tattered and tearing at the seams, began to feel tight around my ribcage. i’m not sure if it was from the oncoming panic or because i clung to it—a relic of what we once had.

that night, i slept on the bathroom floor, periodically throwing up in the toilet while he slept soundly. the next day, we sat across from one another at a burger shop as i sobbed over a pretzel-filled milkshake. on our four-hour drive back to Houston, i sobbed again inside of a Cracker Barrel (it’s okay, you can laugh). this was when he told me, “this isn’t that big of a deal. i mean, it’s not like your dog died. that would be sad.” recounting this entire experience nine years later is both hilarious and mortifying—a comedy of errors played out on a tragic stage.

the crying didn’t stop in Texas. i cried some more on the plane ride home, journaling furiously in the middle seat. i wrote about how life as i knew it was over. i wrote about how i didn’t know where to go from here. but most importantly, i wrote about how i knew we would be together again one day. how, when we ~finally realized our love was too strong to keep us apart~ he would surprise me with a corgi at Christmas. the kind of wishful thinking that only a heartbroken 22 year old could believe.

my mom rolled up to the airport with my family dog in the front seat, and i cried even harder at the sight of that smile that only dogs have—a pure, uncomplicated joy that pierced right through my grief. maybe my ex was right; maybe it would have been worse had my dog died. but years later, when my pup did finally pass, the grief felt almost eerily similar—a hollow ache that settled into my bones.

my sweet healer, Bodhi 🐾

i walked towards the arrivals lane, looking at the endless stream of headlights lining the street, feeling physically ill again, because i wasn’t just looking at the road—i was staring down the barrel of a life full of unknowns. every expectation i had for the year ahead was pulled out from under me in that ten-minute conversation just 24 hours ago, and here i was, back home with nothing to look forward to; just an empty future that felt like a punishment.

i spent a week crying myself to sleep until, on the 8th day, my mom swung open my bedroom door and quite literally told me to “get the hell up.” she said that one day soon, i would get tired of being sad. “maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow or next week, but soon.” she told me to channel my emotions into anything else, anything that would help me move through the pain.

i won’t bore you with the rest of the story. in short, what i wasn’t capable of understanding as i walked out of baggage claim that chilly October night is that life is full of beginnings and endings. one ending leads to a beginning which leads to an ending which leads to another beginning. in every death there is life. the end of my relationship was the beginning of new experiences, friendships, and endeavors i would stumble into in the future. but even these new experiences had to end, reminding me that the impermanence of life extends beyond any single moment; my life would continue to be a series of endings and beginnings.

an ode to that very special year of being heartbroken.

9 months after the breakup

the first time we spoke after a 9 month hiatus, i have this vivid memory of the sky being that soft, expansive shade of blue that makes everything feel serene. i paced, barefoot on the black pavement outside of my mom’s condo, little rocks etching their way into the bottom of my feet, imprinting my skin.