Yeah, so, sometimes I think of my broken heart like a broken bone. If I practice a little patience and take care of my heart, it will heal, right?
Then I think of my ankle.
I sprained it five years ago, and it still hurts from time to time. Maybe my heart will never be the same. I hate thinking that. Of course, logically, I know that my heart doesn’t need to be the same. It can be different. Different is OK. Different can be better.
I’ve been getting emails and DMs from some of y’all that are going through a similar situation. It sucks. It’s hard. You have to change the way you think, change the way you feel, and change the way you do things.
There’s no one thing that makes it easier. Here’s a few things I’m doing these days to heal my broken heart.
I’m watching “Legally Blonde” … a lot. I’m binging “Schitt’s Creek,” and I’m rewatching “Fleabag.” Oh, and I’m listening to Kesha’s “Woman” on repeat.
At the urging of my therapist, I’m reading “Getting Past Your Breakup” by Susan J. Elliott. It’s been helpful. I certainly recognize some of the feelings and situations she describes. If you’re looking for a breakup book that’s on the lighter side, I recommend “It’s Called a Breakup Because It’s Broken.” It’s an easy read to distract you, and it will give you a little boost when you need it.
I love beach walks with my dogs. The world is opening back up. Wash your hands, put on your mask, and go outside.
I’m back on the mat. My super-awesome job offers afternoon yoga twice a week on Zooooooom. I’m taking advantage.
I’m sharing with my family and friends so they know how to support me. Your family and friends love you. They want to help you. If you had a family member or friend that was going through a breakup and having a difficult time, wouldn’t you want to know so you could help? Of course you would, because you’re a fuckin’ great person. Tell them what’s up and let them shoulder some of your burden.
I’ve been redecorating the house. I’m renting, so I’m not getting too crazy with the redecorating. But new curtains, new art and photos, and some new pieces of furniture have helped me. The house doesn’t feel like a museum to my failed marriage anymore. It feels like me. It feels new.
I’m journaling. Writing everything out helps. It’s an emotional time. I have a lot of thoughts and feelings. It feels good to just write them out instead of bottling them up and unleashing them at a bad time. And, of course, writing on this blog again helps me. It makes me feel like myself again.
And this is on repeat in my head …