That's Called Healing, Love.

Updated: Sep 30, 2020

Is remembering the exact day my relationship officially ended pathetic or no? I went to a Lizzo concert the day before so it’s not like I can forget that. Well, August 23rd isn’t the exact day my relationship ended, but as my mom loves to remind me it was the day I arrived on her doorstep unannounced with a PACKED car at 10:30 am. I love this story because that’s such a “me” thing to do, avoid an uncomfortable conversation until there’s no way around it. When it came to telling people about my breakup I would just randomly blurt it out because I was afraid of what people would say. If they were completely horrified it would only confirm my biggest fear, I couldn’t do life without him. If they were happy, then my only choice would be to violate them. UM, CHILE. DO YOU KNOW THE WORLD HAD THE NERVE TO KEEP SPINNING? ANYWAYS.


Shortly after my breakup, I decided to go to therapy (and take it seriously this time), after a REALLY difficult session my therapist said it would take around a year for me to let go of what I thought my life was gonna be. Having a realistic timeframe for the pain to end made it...bearable, every day I focused on just getting to August 23rd, 2020. For the longest time, I thought staying miserable would prove that I loved him or fought for my relationship hard enough, feeling better felt so wrong. Turns out there's no reward to being stuck on an idea of a relationship that doesn’t exist the way you know it to be anymore. I found closure in understanding that I love him the way I know love to be, with all options exhausted. As I’ve gotten older I’ve learned to be grateful and understanding of decisions that are made for me, and this is just one of those things now.


It was easy for me to fall into the trap of thinking of a breakup as a rejection, especially after 5 years together, but it now feels like a necessary redirection for both of us. We needed to break up, something needed to break in us as individuals. Falling in love was my happiest accident and it showed. I didn’t know what I was doing or what it meant to be in a relationship, all I wanted was to be with that big-headed boy through any and everything. Granted things weren't perfect but I never wanted to risk a real break in our relationship out of the fear of the unknown. I failed to realize that growing up while in our relationship could be just as unpredictable and painful for both of us.


Upon a year of reflection, I've realized this breakup was so fucking hard because I thought I lost the best part of me. He brought and brings color to my life in a way I had never known and most times I still can’t shut up about. Falling in love was one of my happiest accidents, and funny enough healing looks a lot like falling in love with myself on purpose. Continuously learning to choose and love myself as I did him: relentlessly, patiently, and loudly. I’m never not excited to talk about the work I do or be actionable on ideas I have because right now is all about figuring out how to do...life, my way. Getting to know me all over again has been a labor of love! Even throughout all the bad days, I'd still choose choosing me over and over again.

Comment below with one way you choose yourself every day! Like and share with someone learning to love themselves again :)

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