“It’s not you. It’s me.”

Break ups suck. Period. No matter who’s in the wrong (IF anyone is). And there’s nothing, literally nothing, that anyone can say or do to change it. You go from sharing everything – no matter how disgusting, insignificant or hilarious, to nothing. Zilch. Zip. Na-da. You realise quickly how unpopular you are when the only person you text isn’t messaging you anymore and it also reiterates how boring your home life is without that person to lounge on or with. And theres no-one to binge watch the latest season of Game of Thrones with you. I haven’t finished it yet; don’t ruin it.

Stages of a break up:

  1. Numbness; irrespective of if you are dumpee or dumper it sucks. You can’t process it.  You block it. No sleep, food or Netflix can fix it because you are most definitely not hungry OR sleepy (stays for about a week give or take).
  2. Anger; again, even if you say Bye Felicia or if you were Bye Felicia’d you still are angry. You rethink every part of your relationship and stew on stupid insignificant sh*t. Sidenote: I just thought of when he didn’t tell me he liked my hair the 3cm shorter than I usually got it cut AND then proceeded to tell me he couldn’t notice – WTF?!
  3. Denial; you start questioning if it’s fixable. If it’s you. If you sought help on things if it’d work out. Could you talk more? Open lines of communication; surely that’d save everything?
  4. Sadnessdoesn’t need an explanation?
  5. Alcohol*, kidding, or am I. *no more than a bottle. Otherwise it’d be messy. Big n-o.
  6. More sadness; usually alcohol induced sadness. Cue crying into new bed sheets in fresh fake tan and ruining them. Cue further crying from said incident. Then lying on un-made bed which brings on more crying.
  7. Attention craving – Constantly. From friends, family, family pets or neighbours animals that you blatantly wish you could cuddle/steal 24/7 and lock them in your bedroom without access to sad songs or movies, cue The Notebook, Dirty Dancing etc or ANY 90’s love songs.

If you’re a lucky S.O.B, you’ve got the love and support (and sometimes anger) of your family and friends. These are the ones who you can type those ill-faired messages that you wish you could send to who they are really intended for. The ones who drag you out of your funk and make you go and have dinner with them and leave with a stitch from the laughter they provide. Or the friends who hug you so tight that you feel like your body is going to break under their weight of love. They are the ones who need to tolerate the sad spotify playlists you’ve collated and who have to listen to the CONSTANT “I just think it’s funny….” or the “looking back, you know what ….”. Your friends are honestly the greatest things you’ll ever find on this earth. Yeah your family is sick – don’t get me wrong. But your friends CHOOSE you. So you’re safe to act like yourself, be yourself. Be happy or sad or a crazy stage five clinger cryer (preferably not the latter). You are the real MVP/s.

Ofcourse, people will say ‘time heals all wounds’, ‘you’re a strong person. you’ll be fine’, please zip it. Your wisdom isn’t appreciated, needed and will not be acknowledged right now. No, I don’t want to talk about it. Yes I am aware that I am going to be okay at some stage. Yes I AM aware that there is plenty more fish in the sea (you are quite right about that one; all I have to do is google how many people there is the world). And I most certainly don’t want to know your opinion on it. UNLESS your opinion includes option five*, then I most definitely will take a bottle – or two – of sauv, house delivered to Brisbane’s Northside STAT.

There is no fool proof cheat sheet to make yourself feel better. You may drink, smoke (tsk tsk), dance, party, cry, party some more, cry some more and then come to the realisation it doesn’t fix it. The only way that you will move past it and to ‘move on with your life’ (so cliche and lame), is to take little steps everyday. You don’t wake up on a Monday after a heavy weekend of crying and eating and crying and eating (purely hypothetical) and be all “yeah woo let’s jump up on tinder. I don’t feel a thing.” Like the regretful tattoo on my sisters back says, ‘this too shall pass’. You will hurt and then one day the hurt stops. Then and only then, you can just think about them with a fond memory.

You do what you gotta do to feel better EXCEPT go through your camera roll. That’s not a good idea. Ever. Best to throw your phone in the river (possibly of your own tears) and then get a brand new one. Hell even treat yourself to an upgraded phone.

In the meantime I’m off to buy this pillow – http://www.martaussie.com/Boyfriend-Arm-Funny-Soft-Cushion-Bedroom-Washable-Huge-Body-Throw-Pillow-OK

 

4 thoughts on ““It’s not you. It’s me.””

  1. Your blog inspires me with your honest, funny, strong words. For those going through breakups it’s not easy… your words will make a difference xx 😘

    Like

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