Handling a broken heart
We have all been there. When the you find yourself sitting on the floor wailing along to Adele after getting a bad haircut, eating a box of crispy crèmes and either swearing off girls altogether or deciding that from now on you will be straight. When your relationship ends and you have no idea what to do without it.
A broken heart will affect pretty much everyone, unless you’re the lucky one who found their Mrs Right when they were four in a sandpit and have been happy ever since. When you go through a breakup however, you feel like you are the only one ever to have experienced such pain and world is upside down and you feel like screaming out loud how much you hate the bitch and you also want to stroke her hair and kiss her. And you feel like you’re slightly going mad.
There are stages of a breakup. I suppose ‘helpful’ friends with their perfect girlfriends have already told you this. The first stage is denial. Of course they’ll come back to you, of course they’ll dump that other pink-thonged-wearing slut, of course they’ll take you away for a weekend away, get you a diamond ring, a white horse, fill all the rooms with flowers and beg for your forgiveness. No. I think this is the hardest stage sometimes as when it does occur to you that you now have to face life being (whispers) single, that jolt can be when the pain kicks in.
Once you move onto the next stage, remove all breakable objects from your reach. The Anger stage can have you losing friends as you think how they must have known the relationship wasn’t working, losing valuable objects as you hurl them around to make you feel better, and losing respect as you scrawl cheating whore across the wall in crayon in the conference room at work. The worst thing you can do while handling the anger part though, is to not handle it. If you don’t deal with all the Justin-Bieber-got-number-one-again rage that you have inside you it can cause problems later on.
Bargaining comes next. This is when you will finally contact the person to try and make things work. Friends is always an idea that gets thrown around without much thought. If you agree to be friends with them how are you going to deal when it comes to the time that they start seeing someone else? Will you act maturely, grit your teeth and shake her hand. Or will you drench her in jam and set a load of wasps on her? Probably the carefully engineered latter.
Sometimes this does work. Maybe talking through things with your ex can help things and you can find yourselves trying things out again. But if you find yourself blaming them for things then reverse, go back to stage two and play with some crayons some more.
When you’ve tried your damned hardest and your exhausted from having the same I-want-you-to-want-to-meet-my-mother arguments that’s when you feel helpless and move into stage four of sadness. Get out the icecream, phone the best friends, pick some girly DVDs, buy some more icecream, buy some chocolate, melt the chocolate and pour it onto the icecream, watch some Grey’s Anatomy and Lword, make some sort of white wine icecream float. Do whatever it takes to make you feel better. You’re allowed to wallow.
But after a few nights of doing that, it’s time to put back the cherry on top of the awesome cake that is your life. Have a few nights out dancing and drinking every-colour-of-the-rainbow-shots. Go shopping and buy something that your ex never would have liked. Have a feng shui day and move your furniture around for all the good-luck-charm-shit-or-whatever to reach you.
As more time passes you will finally, and probably without noticing, move into the accepting stage. You’ll stop trying to fix things, stop crying over Rose on the door of the Titanic and stop drawing up plans of how to torture your ex.
Some things are just meant to be. If you’re a great believer in everything happens for a reason then you’ll understand that it was for the best. If you’re not then you still might feel like hurling a piece of heavy machinery at them for treating you like crap but you will get over it. It will be an emotional shitty turbulent finding-your-feet-again learning-to-trust-yourself Olympic torch run from hell. But in the future, when you’re married with seventeen children and twice as many cats, you’ll barely remember her.