My last relationship died a slow death. Its end was a mixture of intense pain and blissful oblivion. Teetering between the two polar opposites for nearly a year, it could be hard to tell if I had moved on or was temporarily numb.
As I was going through this, I turned to the concept of 5 Stages of Grief to help me make sense of where I was. Still, I couldn’t do it then. My reading of my location was still unreliable.
I could only do it in hindsight, and with the help of at least a couple of movies, a couple of songs, and a TedTalk. It was not easy. Neither was the process linear. But understanding now what I went through then, and being able to name them out loud, helped me see.
I have truly moved on. I hope these will help you too.
Denial & Bargaining: Someone Great
I was looking for something light to watch one night when I came across this Netflix Original. I clicked, not expecting how close it would hit to home.
It started with Jenny (Gina Rodriguez), aspiring music journalist and the movie’s protagonist, drunkenly confiding to a stranger that she had just landed her dream job and was about to move to San Francisco. Rather than do long distance, her boyfriend of nine years (which sounded oddly specific to my situation then) decided to call it quits.
“Really? With FaceTime? And all the high-speed internet? Why he won’t try?” replied the stranger, incredulous.
I found myself nodding along passionately. You see, it was back when my last relationship was in a limbo. I wasn’t sure if, after going on and off, we were even still in a relationship or simply co-existing.
In the back of my mind, I understood how unhealthy staying in this limbo was. I just could not accept the fact that we “lost”. After all these years, after all we had been through, this couldn’t be where it ended.
“We were together for like nine years, right? And now we’re not,” said Jenny to her two best friends as she was trying to process her new reality.
I kept trying to convince myself that, if I just let him get a break, if I just gave him enough time to process all his doubts about what he wanted, he would finally choose us.
After all, I was 27. To completely restart my journey toward love at this point of my life was not where I had pictured myself to be.
“And then I turn 30, and then I die, probably. And I can’t stop moving, or else I think about [him].” It was as if Jenny was narrating my life.
So, I did everything I could to drown out the inner voice that told me to let go. I kept busy. I poured all my energy into work, my dance classes, and any activity I could get my hands on. This was what Denial looked like in my case.
Every time we were about to go “off” after a blissful period of being “on”, I tried to prolong.
“Do you think I can have one more kiss? I’ll find closure on your lips and then I’ll go. Maybe, also, one more breakfast, one more lunch, and one more dinner. I’ll be full and happy and we can part. But, in between meals, maybe we can lie in bed one more time? One more prolonged moment where time suspends indefinitely as I rest my head on your chest. My hope is, if we add up the one more’s, they will equal a lifetime. And I’ll never have to get to the part where I let you go.”
Just like Jenny, I tried to Bargain. With him, with myself, with the situation. Sometimes, I did it out of hope that it would breathe another life into what we had and what could be. Other times, I did it simply because I was not ready for it to end.
Like Jenny, I wanted just one more night, one more meal, one more car ride where everything felt normal. Even if it made saying goodbye the next day so much harder.
“But that’s not real, is it? There are no more ‘one mores’. I met you when everything was new and exciting, and the possibilities of the world seemed endless. And they still are. For you. For me. But not for us.”
Anger: A Star is Born
From the five stages of grief, Anger was one I had never wanted to experience, or admit. In my mind, allowing myself to be angry felt akin to surrendering my control of the situation and its impacts on me. It felt like I lost, when all I wanted so badly was to take the high road in the breakup and not soil the love we had.
Even as I was crying my eyes out on my flight to Paris last summer, a trip I took to recover from yet another hope being shattered, I refused to feel angry.
When I could steady myself enough, I flicked through the endless options of in-flight entertainment. My choice fell on A Star is Born, which I had not seen.
If there was anything that stuck out to me from the movie, it was the intensity of the emotions displayed. It was not just the part where Jack and Ally, the two protagonists, fell in love headfirst with each other. Neither was it just in the whirlwind of romance that followed. It was particularly pronounced in the strength of Ally’s rage and disappointment, in response to Jack repeatedly dragging her along in his downward spiral as he battled his internal demons, and in her unwavering love for him regardless. She was mad at him as fiercely as she loved him. Everything was raw, felt, and savored.
“You know what I’d like? Is for my boyfriend to love me. It means clean your shit up! You’re fucking messy!” Ally yelled, as Jack drunkenly put her look and talents down.
“You made me so upset. … I won’t do this again. I won’t come and find you. Next time, you can clean up your own mess. You understand me?”
Yet she did. Every time Jack came to his senses and apologized for how he had behaved, Ally would honestly tell him, “You hurt me. You really hurt me.” … but assured him of her love.
Back when I was watching the movie for the first time, I did not completely understand why it resonated so deeply. Their story, their circumstances were different from mine. So, why was I overcome with heaving sobs?
Only when I reflected on it, much later, that I realized it left such an impression on me because it taught me how to be angry, and still carry my love.
I was angry because he could not choose us. I was angry because he would not cut me loose. I was angry because he made me second-guess our memories together. I was angry and still I loved him.
But as I allowed myself to feel the anger, and admit it, I could also feel that it slowly began to dissipate.
Depression
After I decided to walk away for good, I thought I was finally at peace. Yes, I cried for about two hours after our talk, but then I felt renewed. I continued to feel fine, great even, every day since.
Imagine my surprise when, upon returning to New York for the first time since our last visit together, alone this time, I could not get out of bed for almost the whole duration I was there. When I did go out, the smallest reminder of our time together in the city would send me into tears. In public.
So, I stayed in. I slept for hours, or when I could no longer fall into sleep, I just lied in bed listening to music. After “being grown-up” about the breakup for so long, this was the first time I had sat within the depth of my feelings.
In my Depression state, I finally truly grieved. I grieved for the loss of what had been and what could be.
We were built like concrete / I used to know your heartbeat / Crazy how it was me and you / Held each other through it / We were young and foolish / Now we’re dancing like we’re done / Was it always like this? / Cause now it’s always like this / The light has disappeared / The dust has settled here / But still I want you near / So I been waiting for that slow fade
I knew that, as shitty as this stage felt, I needed it. So, every time my heart hurt a bit too much, I hugged myself. I gave myself permission, out loud, to take as long as I needed to go through this stage. Even if it had felt like it would never go away.
But then morning came, the last one of this trip. As I hauled my luggage out of my Airbnb in Harlem, and made my way to Boston for Harvard University, a new song filled my head. The fog had lifted.
I delete all your pictures / I walk away from you / Nights are the hardest / But I’ll be okay / If we are meant to be / Hey, we’ll find our way / But now, let it be / I love you but I’m letting go
Acceptance
By then, I had finally accepted the reality that my last relationship was gone and that this was my new reality. Having given grief its time, I can begin to live again.
I have truly understood why I left, and appreciated the decision, knowing full well that there was a risk – even if minuscule – that I could end up alone.
A TedTalk titled “The Unstoppable Power of Leting Go” by Jill Sherer Murray helped cement this belief. Like me, Jill had had to let go of her former relationship of more than a decade, but in doing so, she found herself. Allowing the “right one” to come along. And, most importantly, joy.
It confirmed what I had learnt the hard way, that the way forward is by letting go of taking things personally, of what other people think, of trying to be something I’m not, of the need to be perfect, and of all the “not yet”.
My journey now is about continuously rediscovering myself. No matter what circumstances I will find myself in, I am intent on living a full life.
Credits:
Photographs from Google, Xavier Sotomayor
IntotheMarsh 