It hit me like a lightning bolt. I felt a tingling sensation rush through my toes, into my legs, up my spine, and into my eyes. Sprawled on my made bed, tears ran down my smiling cheeks. A moment of pure stability. I felt such an overwhelming sense of relief that I couldn't help but laugh. I was single. And, I was totally okay with that. During the third week post split, I started to find my independence. I became less reliant on the support of my friends and family, the pit in my stomach started to subside, and my anger towards him had diminished. I started to see the light at the end of the tunnel, I felt like myself again.
F*ck him is the first thing I thought when I woke up to the unfamiliar feeling of being alone in my bed. Through an underlying sense of loss and immobilizing sadness, I felt a motivating sense of survival. I had a plan in mind to muffle my tears and fuel my anger. The day after the split I concentrated on one thing - get rid of any evidence of his existence. Unfortunately, my plan relied on his ability to remove his personal items - not an easy thing for him to do when he hadn't found a permanent residence yet. Once I accepted the fact that his trophies, shirts, and favorite snacks would be a semi-permanent part of my apartment
It was early on a Thursday morning when the words, "I think we should break up" were spoken. My palms started to sweat and I could hear my heart pound with each eternal second that passed. There it was, the familiar pit in my stomach of my heart breaking. After 5 years of relationship and 2 years living together, our time as a couple ended in a matter of minutes. During the following four weeks I went through a roller coaster of emotions. The whirlwind of losing a partner is not an easy thing to go through, even if it is for the better. For the first few weeks, every moment was a fight to feel normal. So what did I do?