Dumped, Dazed, and Barely Standing
Such a cliche, right?
A girl gets broken up with a week before Valentine’s Day. Instead of flowers, she gets ghosted. Instead of dinner or chocolates, she gets the appetite knocked out of her like the wind. That girl is me. Except I’m not a girl anymore, I’m a grown woman, and despite the unannounced panic attacks, acute chest pain, disrupted sleep and astonishing difficulty concentrating on… anything, I’m trying my best to handle this better than your typical rom-com crash out scene on the couch with the bucket of Haagen Dazs.
All I did was defend my autonomy. I have the right to walk over to a girlfriend’s apartment at 10pm for some wine and girl therapy. It was the straw that broke the controlling camel’s back. In that moment, thumbs hovering over the glass iPhone keyboard, I had a choice to make. Me or him? I chose myself, obviously. I’ve been down this road before. When you give in and let the guy control you with ultimatums, it never ends well. Next time the demands will be more rigid, the tests harder to pass.
If you look at it that way, the timer started ticking the moment we agreed to upgrade our best friendship to VIP.
Choose: Him or Me?
It has not been easy. I could easily succumb to the blackhole of my bed (I washed the bedding today, round of applause) and avoid work, college, fitness and dietary responsibilities for the rest of February. My shocked system is crying out to do nothing but dissolve into a heap and watch Inuyasha on Prime. I watch it every day for comfort. He was so rude, just like that half-dog demon anime boy. When the show is on the TV in my room, it’s almost like he never left.
However, at my big age, and this being my third real boyfriend, I decided to channel my newly unexpected heartbreak symptoms into more productive avenues. Like funneling my lack of appetite into a structured, high-protein calorie deficit. After all, break-ups can come with their own perks if you look hard enough, like a snatched waist and defined jawline! What’s the polar opposite of bed rotting and eating one’s feelings? Getting up for the gym at 5am and smearing Manuka honey and freshly squeezed lemon juice on your face after. Deleting Instagram off your phone and actually opening Canvas.
I had to make sense of this train wreck, or else allow the chronic overthinking-thoughts to loop indefinitely and drive me crazy. Why me? Why now? This has to be cosmically aligned for my best interest. Could this have anything to do with the upcoming solar eclipse on February 17th? Saturn entering Aries for the next three years? I’m an Aries moon and rising. Certainly, it has to be in cahoots with the Chinese New Year arriving that day, purging out the year of the Wood Snake and welcoming the year of the Fire Horse.
Blame It On The Stars
Sometimes, things that aren’t meant for us clear themselves out of the way to make room for blessings we couldn’t even imagine. I loved my boyfriend, and I wasn’t expecting to lose him right now. In that moment, the night he asked me to submit to him or else never speak to him again, I made a choice I’m still proud of. A choice I firmly stand by. I chose myself for all the women before me that lost themselves to controlling, abusive men. It starts small, don’t go to that event. Don’t hang out with that person. It escalates to worse. I’ve seen it a million times. I knew with every fiber of my being I was doing the right thing. I cooked lunch for myself the next day, and the first bite tasted exactly like I was on my great grandmother’s ranch in rural Panama. My cooking tasted like her cooking, a distinct taste I knew but hadn’t had since she died when I was 11.
I instantly recognized the spiritual co-sign. My great grandmother suffered greatly within the confines of a marriage to her abusive cop husband. I feel her presence all the time, especially when I enjoy my freedom on campus and experience university, things she only dreamed of. I tilt my face toward the sun and soak it all in, primarily for her but also for all the other women before me who didn’t get the opportunity to escape life sentences underneath a controlling man.
The Woman I’m Becoming
I don’t feel bad that I didn’t get flowers or chocolate this weekend. I see the strings they would have come with. I’m in a world of pain, but still I get up each day and push through with everything I got. Every ounce of strength. I know it’s for the best. What’s one shitty Valentine’s Day in the grand scope of living a life you’re genuinely proud of? I’m just glad I stood up for myself. I chose myself over him and for that I will always win.
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