I Got Mega Watt Dumped

6 Ways To Mend A Broke-Ass Heart

Right before Valentine’s Day, my boyfriend broke up with me.

One week, I’m looking up at the glossy windows of a William Sonoma as he says – “When we get engaged later this year, we’ll come here to register,” and the next, I’m opening a large UPS box with no return address. In it, a lone curling iron – my spare that I kept at his place. No note. Not even freaking bubble wrap. (Come on bro.)

We call him Voldemort now.

That year came and went and, SPOILER ALERT, I did not have to decide on any thread counts or china patterns.

This wasn’t any old break up – he had been one of my closest platonic friends for years. What made it worse? Our recent vacation photos were all over Facebook with my great aunts and 3rd cousins a million times removed still commenting on them. He had also just visited my hometown where I had gleefully introduced him to my 95-year old grandpa, our church’s preacher, and every one in between.

I couldn’t have felt more ridiculous or embarrassed.

My mother was flabbergasted that someone didn’t want her baby.
My father was flabbergasted I was sad about “that yay-who” at all.
And I was too flabbergasted to eat...
or to sleep…
or to do anything really,
except invest in an epic waterproof mascara that would allow me to silently sob in the bathroom at work as gracefully as possible.

I would fall asleep gripping my chest, because my heart physically ached. It was as if my ribs were splitting if I took too deep of a breath in. The thought of ever feeling normal again seemed completely ridiculous.

Do I sound dramatic? Honestly, if it hadn't happened to me, I would be big time rolling my eyes. But I guess you really don't know what it's like for your heart to no longer be your own until it's already in someone else's hands.

Though it was a much longer road than I would have preferred, I did eventually get a grip. Honestly, I can say I’m more sparkly, confident, strong, and authentically me because of it.

here are 6 things proven to mend a broken heart:

1. Cry your face off.

I mean it. Let yourself freaking HOWL. If it doesn’t come out now, it will fester and come out later in a far uglier way.

Day one of being single, I intentionally took the long, super trafficky way home from work so I could really let it all out in my car and spare my roommate the brunt of it. It felt amazing! Until I noticed at a red light that the drivers to my left and right were staring, completely mortified with jaws agape.

Fun fact: my car isn’t as sound proof as I thought. So maybe check yours out before you go ham.

2. Find an outlet.

you’re going to need one, because eventually your sorrow will turn into anger.

Mine was the gym. Turns out a ripped up heart makes it hella easy to get a ripped up stomach too. And what’s better than 1 boyfriend? 6 abs.

Disclaimer: Eat first and ease into it. I didn’t… I actually fainted! The first day out of the house, my roommate took me to a crazy workout class at my now second home. In between a set of jump squats everything went black.

I crawled along the sweat pooled floor to the sound of thumping Avicii toward the front desk where a sweet employee tried to pour strawberry puree into my mouth while I flailed and screamed, “NO! STOP! I HAVE A LOT OF ALLERGIES!”

outfit details: vintage, 1950

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3. Surround yourself with your best friends.

They will share the burden of your heartache and will carry you piggyback through your now glaringly empty weekends until you can walk the path on your own two feet again.

I was embarrassed to let them see me like this. It was fine that they had seen me gush and fall head over heels. It was fine that they had seen me excuse away the red flags in ways that didn’t make any sense.

It was not fine that they saw my dark circles, inability to eat more than half a scrambled egg, and silence when I was usually the bouncy, bubbly comic relief.

But the truth was, they had stood by me even when he made me question their character and friendship. A sad girl in uncharacteristic sweats wasn’t going to deter them now.

Sitting on the floor and crying with me.
Listening for the ump-teenth time that I voiced the same irrational thought.
Forcing me to try to eat ice cream while they shared their experiences with heartache to convince me I too would one day feel myself again.

It’s all I needed and all I hope to ever be for a friend.

4. Do what you have to do

You 100% have to do what is best for you and your mental health.

For me that meant the Hail Mary, the "iron gate," and a purge.

I got absolutely everything I had to say out. I begged for my life. Not just for our 20-somethings routine and little inside jokes, but for all of the kids, homes, vacations and traditions we had dreamed up and whispered with sneaky smiles. It was an out of body experience – gripping his shoulders pleading “please!” – reasoning, protesting, owning up to my part in this crumbling. When every single one of my cards was on the table and he stoically said he still didn’t choose me – I accepted. I had said my peace and knew I would never have to wonder, "what if."

As I watched his tail lights fade into the dark, the iron gate came down. I knew I would never speak to or see him again. And I haven't. Do not answer his texts (especially the ones that come in the early hours of the morning). Do not respond when he messages your friends. Block all social media.

Finally, get the bad juju out. Anything he ever gave you or left behind, goes. Yes, even those brand new, unworn $400 Stuart Weitzman shoes. Lucky for his bank account, Nordstrom has a great return policy. What you do not mail back, throw away.

5. Make new memories

He was long gone and the iron gate was firmly welded into place, but nowhere was safe.

His ghost was in the grocery store, at LAX, my favorite brunch spot, and my hometown. With not even my childhood bedroom in-the-middle-of-nowhere Texas without an association of him, I was at a loss as to where I could find a haven.

It’s at this point where you just have to buck-up, dive in, and make new damn memories. He didn’t want you and he didn’t want this. He took enough of your time and you cannot let his ghost do the same. Now is the time to grab your pity party by the horns and focus on the lessons this can teach you instead.

6. Time

Unfortunately, sometimes it really is the only thing that can heal all things.

Don’t beat yourself up that you haven't thought of him for weeks but then the whole vicious cycle is triggered by a dream or a senile family member asking about how “that darling boy of yours is doing?”

You’re going to be fine. You’re human. You’re enough.