Heartache is no Joke.

I’ve realized recently that it isn’t socially acceptable to be heartbroken. People seem to forget about the pain of heartbreak until they are in position themselves. They look down onto you, expecting you to be okay within that very second. They just don’t understand that sometimes “You have to get over it” is just not a logical thing to say. “Getting over it” makes no sense in that moment. “Getting over it” seems damn near impossible. Yet, when you explain that, 9 times out of 10, all you receive is either silence or the classic: “I don’t know what to tell you. All things get better with time.”

What people seem to forget is that heartbreak is a physical pain much like hunger. When you go too long without eating, your stomach starts to have this constant growl and ache. Sometimes it’s easy to ignore, yet at other times you absolutely have to put food into your body otherwise it feels like your stomach is starting to digest itself. Unfortunately, with heartbreak, you can’t just sit down and eat a gallon of ice cream and magically feel better like people expect you to.
I’m not sitting here saying that I wish people could understand what I’m going through, and I’m also not saying that a single person has ever felt this way before. We’ve all had our hearts broken. Some of us with breakups, some with death, and some with a different kind of loss. However, once time passes and the aching slowly goes away, it’s almost like we forget what it feels like to be in mourning. Is it weird of me to say that I never want to forget this feeling?

I’m sure that most people are going to find that very confusing. Why on earth would I want to remember this pain? Honestly, there are a few reasons. The first one is simply because as human beings, we are here to embrace the life that has been given to us. We are here to live, breathe, thrive and feel everything. That might sound pretty “hippie” of me, but this new way of thinking has helped me move on with the recovery process of every ounce of pain I feel.

The second reason is a little more personal, and I will try to not bore you with the gory details. The reason why I lost my previous love is because the timing of our relationship could not have been worse. Between my severe anxiety and depression disorders, there were also issues lying deep in my being that I would have never confronted if I hadn’t been to therapy recently. Because of these things, to say that I treated my fiance badly is an understatement. I treated him terribly. When I look back, I can’t help but think “Damn. He held on so much longer than I ever would have.” Constantly fighting, constantly making him question his self worth, constantly leaving him, and more things that I personally don’t want to have plastered all over the internet, but obviously he should have left me long before he did. All the time that I’m treating him this way, I had no idea that I was as unstable as I truly was. I really had no idea just how far down the hole I had fallen. The pain of this heartbreak will always serve as a reminder to never lose myself again. The guilt that I feel for pulling him into my life when I was so clearly unstable is crippling. If I could go back in time to the day that I met him, I would turn the other cheek and never have talked to him, simply because how I treated him was so badly. But, while talking to one of my friends about feeling this way, they said something to me that really helped me get through a pretty bad time. “Being unstable doesn’t make you ‘the bad guy’, it makes you young.”

I constantly find myself trying to figure out my entire life instead of just letting it pan out the way it’s supposed to. I’m a firm believer that everything happens for a reason, and I’m also the type of person who needs an answer for everything. Why did it happen this way? Why did they ever walk into my life? Why did I fall in love with him the second that I met him if it wasn’t meant to be? Life is unfair. Because I fell in love with my ex-fiance the second that I laid eyes on him in high school, I was absolutely sure that we were going to be together for the rest of our lives. That’s the only outcome that made sense. I’ve started to realize that sitting here and questioning why it happened and why it failed, I should just be glad that because of this relationship, I realized that I needed to reach out to someone for help. I shouldn’t sit here and be distraught over something that I cannot change, but be thankful for the good times that we had together. Life is funny sometimes, and things always have a way of playing out better than you could ever imagine them to. Holding onto the light, and surrounding yourself with those who fill your heart with love are the only things that you can do to get through the hard times.

Better to Love & Lost than Never Love at all.

Recently my life has taken a tragic turn. As I have written about previously, I was engaged for about two years to a man that I very much adored. I wrote about my day-to-day struggle of my emotions flip-flopping more than the average persons. One day I would be head over heals in love with this man, and the next, I would be leaving him because I wasn’t happy. About a month ago was our last and final breakup.

During this breakup, I decided that it was time for me to reach out for help. Michael had told me time and time again that I needed to go to the doctor because he felt like I had bipolar disorder. During my negative episodes, though, I didn’t want to believe him. I honestly thought that he was just trying to make me feel absolutely crazy. I thought that Michael was the bad person in the relationship and that he couldn’t take the responsibility that needed to be taken in order to fix things between us, and that he was just trying to pawn it off onto me. This was the only explanation. I had lived my entire life up until that point with no problem, right? So why in the hell would bipolar disorder be showing up now?

After my appointment with my psychiatrist I learned that I actually did not have bipolar disorder. She explained to me that when someone is bipolar, their episodes don’t just effect the people that they care the most about, but even random strangers. Because my episodes where strictly to Michael and my mother, she explained to me that I have a major anxiety disorder. Basically, because I feel like those people were going to be there for me for the rest of my life, I felt like it was okay to make them feel not important and not really even realize when I was doing it.

Realizing that I’ve lived my life with this problem going untreated has really been difficult for me. It’s raised so many questions. What would have happened if I would have reached out for help before now? Would Michael and I still be together? But then I take a step back and realize something more… I do love Michael. More than words can describe. Seeing him move on with his life, finding another girlfriend not even two months after our breakup, it’s been difficult. Letting go has been nearly impossible for me, however, I have to realize that for the past two years, I’ve made him unhappy. Now, that he’s moved on, he’s found true happiness. No, it’s not with me, and yes that hurts tremendously, but all I can do is smile knowing that he’s happy.

Sometimes life throws curve balls at you. It’s unfair, and they hurt. But laying down and letting them get the best of you while you mope around in your own self pity does absolutely nothing except make the situation worse. All I can do at this point in time is move forward with my therapy and medications that the doctor has given me, and pray that God gives me the strength to move forward. I’ve already came so far in my thinking, so there’s nowhere else to go but up from here.