Yoga, Cold Sores, and Middle School Concerts
As soon as I was honest with myself and told my fiance that I wanted to end our relationship, I had peace. It came like a blanket over me as soon as I pulled the rug out from under him.
Within the hour, I went to a middle school choir performance with my best friend to hear her daughter sing (as one does). I remember being relieved to know I wouldn’t see anyone I knew. That lasted about five minutes. A woman from church saw me and asked how the wedding planning was coming along. I lost it. She was confused.
I ended what was the worst day of my life by playing tether ball with elementary students in the courtyard. We talked about lunch tables, the soccer team, and the big school festival that weekend. If you are stressed about your future, I highly recommend hanging out with kids after school who can’t think beyond dinner.
A day after the worst day, I started developing a very nasty nose blister. I mean, it looked like K2. I have never had one before but I have also never ended an engagement before. It felt like karma.
Breaking off a relationship that public is hard news to share. People on my Instagram only just found out. Actually, as a coping mechanism, I unfollowed everyone except my biological family and local pet shelters.
For several months, I did not feel the need to blast it from the rooftops but I also needed some people to know. Work has been an escape, though I can’t handle the plethora of innocent wedding questions. I told one colleague of the breakup and, minutes later, another one asked me how the wedding plans were developing. I straight up said, ‘They are going well, thank you!’ I didn’t have the energy to tell someone again.
Yoga has been a great therapy. I did two-a-days last weekend and plan to knock more out this week. I bought an unlimited pass and intend to suck that deal dry.
“Take a 1-inch x 1-inch square of paper and make a list of people whose opinions matter to you – those people who love you, not in spite of, but because of your vulnerabilities and imperfections. Brown says, “If you need more paper, you need to edit.””
I am also milking every ounce out of the local pet shelters. I just rescued a cat named Jazz last month and am wanting to foster a dog (to make my life a little crazier). I was told to not make any big decisions for six months. I am trying to find a way out of that clause.
To date, the thing that has hurt the most are actions from people I thought were friends. One girl wrote me and asked me if I was ok. I thought she was just randomly checking in like she normally does. I told her the news and she responded by saying, ‘Oh yea, I already knew.’ I am not some monkey for your entertainment. My hurt is not just information to be gained. Stop fact finding.
Other total buffoons have had the nerve to give me their advice about ‘Why we looked like the perfect couple and could have worked through it.’ Stop right there. Stay in your lane.
My best friend said my circle is getting tighter and that is something to both mourn and celebrate.
My aunt told me to be kind to myself: ‘Let yourself heal the way you have given Jazz time.’ Those who have rallied around me have been my life blood. If you text me and ask my how I am doing, I will probably not respond. I cannot sum it up into a message. My energy is precious right now because I am fighting to get by.
I am learning to embrace self-care in this time of grief. Randomly crying is part of the journey and knowing that helps. Dark humor and ‘Shouts & Murmurs’ in The New Yorker are also a great support. So are middle school concerts.