It was over. It was at that moment that my under-developed adolescent brain realised that not only was it over, but he was over.
I remember being 16-years-old sitting in my bedroom with an utter burning, sinking sensation in my heart which I had not yet prepared for, in-fact there was no way to prepare for it.
The feeling that we've never been taught in schools, from listening to music or watching films. From first learning what a crush was, we've known that losing them, or the idea of them, will cause us much pain. We've seen characters in films and on TV weeping for a 10-minute duration, and heard the poetic pain blended with a melancholic tune that we listen to in songs. We know that it will hurt. We get that. But what we aren't prepared for is the indescribable drowning sense of loss that comes with it. That feeling that someone who you dedicated so much time to, someone who was always at the other end of the phone, someone who you shared some of your best memories with is now completely inaccessible and unavailable to us.
After being in a long-term relationship for so long, it becomes your normal, feeling safe and secure and comforted. Going from one extreme to the other in a matter of hours or minutes or seconds suddenly creates a lack of identity and a desperation to feel whole, which you've lost from years of being one half of a team with someone else.
There is so much stigma around the "partying" culture nowadays, and whilst I am a keen believer in having the freedom to do what you want with your own body, I was never one of those people who could quickly go on the "rebound" and immediately get over an ex by moving onto the next person in a less meaningful way. It takes me time to heal from past relationships because of the harrowing experience which makes you feel intense loss.
I remember going through one traumatic breakup where I left his house in a cloud of anger and disgust, not turning back to give the walls satisfaction of seeing my broken-down face. It felt as though fire was surrounding me; seeping through my hands and the veins in my head, but consuming the area I was running from. The sound of weeping and the look of guilt and pain I had just brought from another human being made me feel like a villain in a a Disney film. I sat down on the bus, the flames subsided and everything and everyone around me was peaceful and at bliss. Completely unaware of my pain. I was left feeling burnt and completely deflated. All of that anger and pain I had just experienced was literally over and very physically gone. I was left feeling empty with a sinking "What now?" feeling. Was I allowed to miss him? Should I block him? The lack of answers and the silence of the bus brought me back to that feeling when I was 16 ... The person that I had invested so much time and emotional inventory was completely gone just like that ... someone who knew my insecurities, how my mind works, and my favourite breakfast was swept out of my life just like that.
That aching sense of loss can be compared to the feeling of grieving the death of a loved one. Breakups can feel more messily chopped off like an old pair of scissors with fabric which just won't tear. One sickening side-effect is that you still see them getting on with their own lives without you and being happy ... without you. I feel as though it's a form of grief that I had not heard of before, perhaps it isn't taken seriously enough. We have learnt to mock this stereotype of a young girl crying over the boyfriend who's just "broken her heart", but it is actually more painful and traumatic than one can imagine.
What I'm trying to say is, there is no shame in feeling obliterated and distraught by going through a break-up. Do not feel as though you have to heal right away. It's okay to feel drowned, yet hollow. Whether this be a break-up of someone who were "officially" with, or someone who you were seeing for a couple of months. Humans are communicative and monogamous creatures who have adapted and survived through human contact and relationships, it is not natural for us to be alone, never mind this close contact being ripped from us in an instant.
It's okay to get up, go out and try and make yourself better, but remember ... it is also okay to grieve.
Lots of love,
Josie xx