As I was recovering from a heartbreak, I confided in my friend Denise how overwhelming it was to think of life as indefinite. You have no idea when it will all end, how many more heartbreaks lie ahead, or if your dreams will ever even come true.
I’m not saying I wish for a terminal illness, but there’s a certain clarity that comes with a definite time frame, like “you have three months to live.” You know exactly how long you need to hold on and can focus on making the most of that time. Perhaps it was because of my background as a consultant. My professional life is structured around campaigns with specific objectives and KPIs to meet in three months, six months, or a year.
Denise said, “So, why not create a campaign for yourself? Give yourself three months to recover and move on.” So, I did.
Putting my peace first
I try not to let societal standards get to me: the idea that there’s a deadline for getting married and having kids, that you need to accumulate a certain amount of wealth by a certain age, or that you must always be petite, polished and perfect.
But comparison is the thief of joy, and social media offers a window to greener grass all around you. It definitely played a role in why I sometimes forced relationships in the past, or starved myself to stay the same weight I was in college.
The easiest way would be to delete all social media. But there are things I enjoy about it, too. It’s just that I don’t always love how I feel about the people on my feed. People I haven’t seen in a decade, but feel obliged to stay connected with out of politeness. People who, when we do meet, are only interested in my weight or my relationship status.
I’m always concerned with being the bigger person and keeping the peace. But, on the first day of my campaign, I dared myself to either unfollow or mute people whose paths no longer align with mine. Some because they did bring me down with their words and mindsets. Most, simply because we were never that close to begin with, we no longer talk in real life, and constantly seeing their highlight reels without context does more harm than good to my mental health.
It feels petty. Selfish. Shouldn’t I be happy for them?
But the truth is, I am happy for them. I wish them all the best. I just don’t need to see it up close every single day. At least, not at this stage of my life, when I just needed to focus on rebuilding my self esteem and regaining my peace.
Scaling new heights
Having shed some of the mental weight dragging me down, I finally had the time and mindspace to explore things that bring me joy, both old and new.
I’d been curious about bouldering for some time, and I finally hit the ‘go’ button. I reached out to a climber friend, asked if she would show me the ropes, and the rest was history. I got hooked.
Bouldering gave me an outlet to quiet my mind and focus on the problem at hand. It challenged me to conquer my fear of falling and gave me a newfound appreciation for my body and what it can do.
It was also fascinating to see others battling their own demons on the wall. You can’t help but root for them, which, in turn, opens you up to new conversations and new friendships.
I now have a couple of friends that I climb with regularly, and it makes me so happy to think about the connection we’re building over a shared passion.
Turning to writing
I’ve been through heartbreaks before, and no matter what, it always hurts. Even though I knew I’d survived 100% of my past breakups, it’s hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel when you’re in the thick of it.
So, I turned to writing. I started a “Move On Journal” and documented how I felt almost every day. My goal was to capture the ebbs and flows of the pain and to see how long it would take to start feeling like myself again. You know, for future reference, in case I have to go through another heartache.
My ex-boss used to say that writing forces your mind to have clarity. He was right. It helped me distill important insights and lessons, many of which I shared in my previous blog posts.
Dating (and loving) myself
As I recovered, I took some time completely off dating. Instead, I dated myself. I scheduled nice meals for just me, went on intimate long walks with my thoughts, treated myself to good books and massages…
I also took the time to know myself better. What I like. Whether I like it because I like it, or because I think that’s what will make people like me. What I dislike.
One exercise that helped was auditing my wardrobe. In most of my professional years, I’ve leaned toward classic pieces in neutral tones – an “old-money aesthetic” that felt polished and practical. I’ve always admired how these styles look on others and assumed they would do the same for me. They’re also fuss-free, which appeals to the part of me that doesn’t want to spend too much time getting dressed every morning.
But if I’m honest, my choices weren’t just about convenience or elegance. I often chose clothes that wouldn’t draw attention to my body – especially anything that might make me look “big” or highlight so-called “problem areas” like my arms. My wardrobe was pragmatic, yes, but I also played it safe.
The truth was, apart from the classics, I’d always been drawn to vibrant, unconventional styles. I just pushed those desires aside, convincing myself they weren’t practical or, worse, that I couldn’t “pull them off.”
This time, I let curiosity win. I asked my friend Gokce, known for her fearless love of colors and patterns, to take me thrifting. She helped me pick dresses bursting with joy – polkadots, bright hues, silhouettes I’d never dared try before. When I wore them, something magical happened: I felt happy. Full of life. Like me.
One day, as I looked in the mirrors, instinctively checking if my arms looked “too big,” a thought struck me: So what? It’s just an arm. If someone doesn’t like me for my arm, do I even want them in my life?
It felt like a switch flipping. For the first time, I saw my body not as something to critique, but as a partner in this beautiful, messy journey. Since then, I’ve embraced a mindset I once dismissed as a meme: “Hot is a mindset.” And let me tell you, baby – I feel it.
Do insecurities vanish overnight? Of course not. But now, when they surface, I meet them with kindness instead of judgment. I remind myself that being human is messy, and that’s okay. Every time I choose to celebrate my body, I get a little closer to loving it for everything it is – and isn’t.
Soaking up on love
Last but not least, I went on a journey to remind myself of just how much love was within me and surrounded me.
I spent extra time nurturing old friendships and blooming new ones. One particularly meaningful connection that came out of this time was my friendship with Kai and Yeeching. I’d known Yeeching for a while when she introduced me to Kai, a friend from her master’s program.
Kai had recently started lindy hopping and was an avid climber, so we decided to go climbing together for the first time. The three of us created a WhatsApp group to coordinate schedules, and even when Yeeching eventually dropped out of our climbing routine, we kept chatting daily and hanging out nearly every week.
The three of us have this always-young-at-heart, slightly chaotic energy that makes every moment together a blast. But beyond the laughter and inside jokes, Kai and Yeeching are some of the kindest, most empathetic people I’ve ever met. We can swap the darkest jokes one moment and then dive into deeply serious, heartfelt conversations the next. With them, I always feel at home.
It reminds me of just how much love I already have in my life and, at the same time, how many people I haven’t met yet who are just waiting to come into my life, making it all the richer every time. It rekindled my hope and gave me the strength to go on. For this, I am so utterly grateful.
Credits:
IntotheMarsh 