how to be thankful for your broken heart

I fell in love for about the trillionth time last year.

He was 5’10 with brown hair (they always are, I have no control over this). He had dark rimmed glasses, perfect skin and warm brown eyes. He looked like a combination of The Little Mermaid’s Prince Eric and Clark Kent. Total dreamboat. Every word out of his mouth sounded like a poem or a script from a movie. The sound of his voice is what I imagine velvet would sound like if it had a sound.  Men this handsome and perfect are rarely encountered in real life. Naturally I dove in head first without giving a second thought to my heart’s current condition or where I was at in life, or really anything.

It might be important to note at this juncture the timeline of gentlemen up to this point. This will better illustrate where I was in life and how ill prepared I was for this perfect specimen. We will address each of these “eras” in more detail throughout the blog, but for the sake of organization I have created a timeline for you below.

Ok, so now that we are clear that I had no business falling in love with anyone at that time, we can continue.

Where were we? Perfect human? Right. Ok. So, the Big Kahuna. Full disclosure, I don’t even know what a kahuna is, or why it’s only referenced when it’s large. However, Nicki Minaj claims to be one so I assume it’s a big deal.

This guy was everything. He was smart and funny. He was an excellent cook. He wore a suit to work every day like a man should.  He took me to the opera and the ballet and said the nicest things to me and  I had no choice but to fall ass backwards, head over heels in love with him.


I swear to God that I put up a fight at first. I really did. I knew I was defenseless, but I tried anyway. Before long I tore up my whole life in Seattle (my home of 11 years), and moved to the state capital about an hour away where he lived. At times, I made myself sick with how adorable we were. We spent weekends planting gardens, drinking fine wines and telling each other how crazy we were about each other. Everything was perfect!!  Until it wasn’t.


Here’s the super bitchy thing about love: whether you end the relationship or not, you still never get to REALLY know what went wrong. There’s always some sort of a reason. But at the end of the day, you never know exactly what the other person was thinking, so you are forced wonder forever. Isn’t it fun? Aren’t you glad you keep doing this?


This relationship baffled me. It lasted only ten months and yet it mangled my world into such a vile state that I started a blog? I have always enjoyed writing, but this was a need. An unsurpassable urge to find and communicate with every person on the earth that had felt what I was feeling. If you’re reading this, chances are I’m talking to you. So, thank you. You’ve been one of my best friends.


So that was it. It was over. I spent the next month eating a thousand pizzas and drinking wine and crying, like a normal person.  Any attempts I made to get him back were fruitless. I thought for sure I would die. I didn’t, clearly. 

In my not dying, and living in a town where I knew very few people, I was left with a lot of time for reflection. Once I cleared all the pizza boxes and wine bottles out from around me, I started to think a bit more clearly. I cut back the drinking, amped up the vegetables, did a ton of yoga, got proper amounts of sleep,  and only did things that made me happy. Please note that this process will piss a lot of people off and you just can’t let it get to you. I’m realizing this is probably the first time in my life that I’ve been making decisions per what I really want with no one else in mind and no one else to please. I’ve realized it isn’t selfish, it’s self-care.


This brings me to why I am thankful for my heart being broken.


I have been doing a lot of research about love and emotions and relationships as of late. I came across an article the other day about the similarities and differences between a soul mate and a life lesson. I use the term “soul mate” begrudgingly, because I’ve always hated it, but you know what I’m talking about. The person you love so much that you can’t fathom it’s even real. I won’t go on and on about it, but it’s someone like the boy this post is about. Duh.


The article suggested that perhaps these people are only with us for a short time to teach us a lesson, or point our lives in a new direction, or help us decide to change. If a relationship came and went with little connection, we would simply move on and repeat all our old habits and think nothing of it. But when you lose someone your heart was really attached to, it creates space for a better relationship with yourself.


So today I’ve decided to be thankful for this experience. I haven’t recovered fully, and I still miss him nearly every minute of every day, but I am getting closer. Closer to myself, closer to being truly happy, closer to experiencing life in a different way and closer to being a better version of myself. A broken heart usually just means you love someone, and for that, we should always be thankful.



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