It’s been an emotional couple of weeks. I haven’t dealt with this much emotion my entire life. I guess it was bound to happen. I managed to go through 33 years without shedding too many tears over relationships. I do remember shedding a few tears of joy when my ex and I decided to divorce and even more joy when it was finalized.
Between the ages of 19 and 33, I managed to have several relationship-type experiences, but none that made any great emotional impact. There were a few relationships that got off to promising starts. Some lasted as long as 6 months. Most averaged about 2-3 months. When those relationships ended, I remember breathing a sigh of relief. I don’t remember ever experiencing sadness. I certainly don’t ever remember losing appetite over breakups.
But as the cliche goes, there’s a first time for everything. For me, I’m pretty sure this was my first adult love. The first real breakup. And the first heartbreak. The last few weeks I’ve managed to feel more emotions over a relationship than I have felt my entire adult life. My BFF Laura, who has witnessed my dating history since freshman year of college, mentioned that she has never seen me feel so much for a guy. Never felt any of these feelings when I was dating the slew of 23 year olds.
I’ve come to the realization that this breakup is similar to dealing with death. But this particular breakup wasn’t the slow death, where you know it’s coming. This was more like accidental death that comes out of nowhere and shocks you to the core.
And just like death, I’ve been dealing with stages of breakup grief. First came shock. Then denial. Then anger. Now depression. I hear it’s healthy to feel all these emotions. But it doesn’t make it easier.
Only one stage left to go.