Not to beat a dead horse, but for those of you new around these parts, I am coming out of a devastating break-up. One week he said he never wanted to break-up, the next he was texting about going our separate ways.
I was devastated, like, cry to your mom, then your best friend, then your grandma on the phone. He, who had been my rock through this tumultuous sea that is mental illness, had given up on me.
But here’s the thing, ladies and gents – that pales in comparison to having a break-down. Being dumped has nothing on trying to kill yourself. ┬áStaying in bed in your pajamas all day is nothing like vital checks and suicide watch. Sleeping on a plastic mattress with a blanket that is never warm enough.
Break-ups are break-ups, not break-downs. Something wasn’t working or we would still be together so better now than later, right? I am 34 and no spring chicken (though not an old tortoise either)! I still have time to fall foolishly in love again. That is the thing about me, I love easily.
So, know that a break-up, however devastating, doesn’t mean you have to break-down. You can keep your head above water. You can, and will, move on.
I haven’t yet – 2 months out – and I can’t imagine kissing anyone else’s lips, but I will. And it will be exciting and scary and moving and sexy and wonderful.
But I will not let his decision break me. It is a choice, one I face every scary night and every new morning – to live and to live well.
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