i’ve spent the last few weeks pondering this question.

tears. no, heavy, heavy sobs. random. without notice. on-going until they slowly fade into the darkness of the evening, my pillow accumulating weight with each subsequent drop. as the minutes fade, the once soft surface of the sheets becomes rough to touch as the saltiness hardens beneath my cheek.

body aches. gut-wrenching body aches. as if one has taken a severe beating. a vivid hole-like space in between your ribcage, no matter which way you turn, it seems the emptiness exposes you to the rest of the world.’yes’, you say without blurting a word, ‘i am hurting’. it’s written on my body; on my under-eyelids, on my slummed shoulders, on the difficulty of each step taken, on the sudden quivering of my lower lip. ‘what are you gonna do about it? you better stop looking’.

THERE’S NO CURE. better yet, it may seem there is one, but when you’ve spent nearly three years in recovery trying to reclaim your life, it feels counterintuitive to relapse into the self-destructive behavior which nearly, hand-in-hand, took you to the grave.

‘but something must be done!!’

i must get rid of this sort of all-consuming pain with no end in sight; a long road, each step harder than the one prior. but it’s the only way out. step..by step.. by step.

when you’ve spent your entire life hedging your bets, pulling out before you hit the end, the mind/body/soul is not ready for the intensity of pain which floors you whilst on the road of an unforeseen end to a relationship. especially when you’re walking side-by-side, and your person suddenly turns right, instead of left, leaving you standing, wondering.. without a solid answer.

no. there is no sure way of predicting this type of exit. no way of bracing yourself for the fall. the only thing we have is our coping mechanisms but for me (and for many of you who are doing.the.work)…my coping mechanisms aren’t an option, and i begin to wonder: am i equipped in handling it all?

what I know is…

YES.

how? by feeling it ALL.

because if there’s one thing i’ve learned from a broken </3 it’s that it’s that much sweeter, that much more profound, that much more healing, if you can look back and know that you gave it your ALL. that you showed up with kindness and compassion, that you spoke your truth, that you had difficult conversations, that you loved fully, braving the fear of vulnerability by being YOUR WHOLE, TRUE, AUTHENTIC SELF.

[[a colossal contrast between the old me and the new me: one who respects myself and my partner enough to be FULLY present no matter the outcome.]]

intimacy, as it turns out, is not something we’re taught.

[[ not our fear of intimacy, not how to be intimate, not what it means to be intimate, or how to deal with the pain of an ending relationship after being intimate..]]

most of the time we end up in the land of broken </3’s wanting NOT TO FEEL very much of anything at all, because of the amount of pain, uncertainty and unknowing. we begin numbing, shunning, avoiding THE PAIN of what we’re FEELING via rebound relationships, flirtations, drugs, alcohol, sex, cutting, food, or lack thereof, the list goes on… ANYTHING but to FEEL THE PAIN of our broken </3.

I really believed this to be the best way to handle trauma: if you just remain UNBREAKABLE alyonka, you’ll walk out unscathed, pristine, clean, ready for the next adventure.

what i didn’t know until now is that “the next adventure” never arrives…

because “the next adventure” will always be the same exact adventure, under the disguise of a new face and body, UNTIL WE LEARN HOW TO COPE WITH THE PAIN + TRAUMA THAT KEEPS COMING UP, WITHOUT THE USE OF OUR COPING MECHANISMS, but by coping THROUGH FEELING!!!!!!!!!!! WHATEVER IT IS THAT WE’RE FEELING.

So, YES. of course, i’m hurting.

but i’d rather hurt like this.

knowing I gave it my all. knowing i bared my soul. knowing i loved completely and unconditionally. knowing i respected the hell out of my partner and myself. knowing i put down my walls. knowing i allowed myself to be seen. knowing that i pushed my limits of my fear of intimacy. and knowing that it’s been three weeks of the gut-wrenching pain i’ve described above, and although I’ve thought about my coping mechanisms and relapsing, i haven’t moved to act on it. i simply breathed through it (sometimes cried through it) and dug deeper by asking: what is the core of this exact pain and why is it so strong that i need to numb this?

the answer is always loud + clear. each time less daunting, intimidating, threatening.

‘ah,’ i say. ‘ i get it. i’m preparing for THE.NEXT.ADVENTURE.

THE.REAL.NEXT.ADVENTURE.

so. what’s a broken </3?

the most beautiful opportunity for healing.