When my second boyfriend broke up with me I was absolutely devastated. I had experienced heartbreak before, when my first boyfriend broke up with me, but it hadn’t been so bad. That first experience I cried, I was sad for a month, bitter for a month, and then over it. But I hadn’t loved him. I fell fast and hard for my second boyfriend, and when he left me I just shattered into pieces. It took me over a year and a half to even really start getting over it. As of this writing, I’ve been “over it” for maybe two or three months. It was one of the worst years of my life, for many reasons. I didn’t eat or drink anything for three days after the break up. My friends, luckily, hospitalized me. Part of the reason I reacted so hard was that I had severe, mostly untreated major depressive disorder. But one of the things this taught me was that there were different levels of heartbreak, and nothing could have prepared me for how I would feel.
As I said, when my first boyfriend broke up with me, it wasn’t that bad, comparatively. Oh, at the time it felt like the world was ending. I blamed myself. What was wrong with me that he didn’t want me? He broke up with me because the semester was ending and he didn’t want to do a long distance relationship over the summer. An understandable, if stupid (in my opinion) reason. But still, I thought that there must have been something wrong with me if he didn’t even want to try. I cried for several days. My friends were all there to support me, we watched Star Trek and they introduced me to Doctor Who. We had a pizza part without him. And then I went home for the summer. I was sad for a while.I was so sad and confused that I talked to a stranger on the internet about the situation, something I had never done before. Then I got scared about talking to strangers on the internet and deleted him from my steam contacts and ignored him every time he messaged me until he went away. Not the best way to deal with things, but I was 18 and dumb. Then my ex reached out to a friend of mine and asked if I was okay, and wanted her to reassure me that it was all right and completely understandable if I was still sad. Now, I assume he meant well by that, but to me, it seemed like he was insulting me, belittling our relationship by telling me that it was okay if /I/ was sad, but he clearly wasn’t. He had already moved on (according to Facebook). That he had the audacity to do this made me angry, and I was bitter and angry at him for about another month. I was frustrated with myself that I had even been with him. And then, one day, I just stopped caring. Just like that, it was over, and I was indifferent towards the whole situation. I would still call myself heartbroken, because at the time, I was. But it felt like something everyone had gone through. I was unprepared for it then, because I had never been through it before. But now I would know better for next time, right?
Wrong. My breakup with my second boyfriend nearly killed me. I don’t know if I’m exaggerating or not there. But I related a lot to Bella in New Moon. Not the whole ignoring-my-friends-and-putting-myself-in-danger part, but the near-catatonic depression part. Fortunately, as I said, my friends hospitalized me, and then, while I was not over him, and it took me a long while to get better, I was no longer catatonic. I still cried nearly every night, sometimes quietly into my pillow, sometimes wailing and howling and unable to stop myself. Around then, Taylor Swift’s song “Blank Space” came out, and I related heavily to the lines, “So it’s gonna be forever, or it’s gonna go down in flames. You can tell me when it’s over if the high was worth the pain…cuz we’re young and we’re reckless we’ll take this way too far. It’ll leave you breathless or with a nasty scar…” For a long time, I didn’t know if the high was worth the pain. I was in so much pain. People kept telling me it was going to get better, that I was going to get over him, but I had no way of knowing that was true. I tried to compare it back to my first boyfriend, but that didn’t work. My second boyfriend and I were in love, we had dated for longer than I had before, and he was my rock during my depressive episodes. That was why he broke up with me – he could no longer handle my depression, and that hurt more than anything. One of my greatest fears was that my depression would push away the people that I loved, and he always promised me that that would never happen. But then it did. My depression pushed him away and it destroyed me. I have no idea how I would have reacted if I hadn’t been severely depressed, and mostly untreated. Over the next year and a half I worked to get over him, and worked on treating my depression. As of this writing, my depression has been well treated for about four months, and I’ve been over my ex for two or maybe three. I couldn’t get over him while I was still depressed. And I know there’s a part of me that will never get over him. I still miss him, but it’s not devastating anymore. A part of me will always love him, and I don’t think I want to lose that, as painful as it is.
I was not prepared to deal with heartbreak. But I’m glad it happened. It brought me down to my lowest point (or one of them) and I climbed my way back up again, slowly, but surely. At this point I am sure that the high was worth the pain. I loved being in love, and I would do anything to be in love again. I’m lonely. But that doesn’t mean I’m less of a person for not having a significant other, and I do not /need/ one. I’m not a hopeless romantic. But I know I can be okay, I can survive, and I will be okay if it happens again.