The thing is, before I had my heart broken–I was convinced of a melodramatic, romanticized version of what break ups are.
You get real sad, you eat ice cream and you cry. Maybe the love was unrequited! Maybe she moved away. Maybe they just weren’t meant to be. That’s the gist. I was like, weirdly excited. Definitely not afraid.
Ice cream, rom-coms and time with friends?! I can’t WAIT to get my heartbroken!
Turns out that’s not quite how it goes. Or at least, it wasn’t for me. It was much messier, much lonelier, and had waaaaay more pizza than ice cream. I don’t think I ate ice cream for like, four years after my breakup. Only pizza, and nervously plucked hairs from my face and groin.
You see, my heartbreak made all my existing quirks and “things to work on” 1000000000x worse than they used to be. It made my inner critic feel like they need to start running things full time. It gave that inner critic all the proof it ever needed to totally rip me to shreds, from the inside out.
I wish I had been relaxing on the couch eating ice cream and crying to my friends. The reality was much, much worse than that. It was not romantic or comedic. I’m sure I’m not alone.
K enough I wrote a poem about it
by Becky WTGH
So as I lay here, trying to sleep, unable.
I want you, heartbreakers of the world, to take heed.
You see, I am not a heartbreaker. I am a heartbreakee.
I could never break anybody’s achy breaky
I love everyone so much, I would never be able to leave
Have mercy on me
I have anxiety
That means, that when you break me open
Bust up my lock and throw away my key
I’ll have daydreams about pulling out your teeth
whittling statuettes out of your bones
I’ll keep you alive for weeks, months, years,
making you feel the all pain you gave me.
Don’t break someone who’s broken,
You don’t know what I haven’t spoken about
All the tips and tricks my brain points out
Ways to make you scream and shout
So wonderful, heartbreaker
For you to help me see
How much more anxiety
Could be inside me
When you came around, and knocked me down
I bet you didn’t think I would try to kill you
In my dreams
Forever and ever on loop
Ahhh, my nightly meditation
My evening routine
I hear you screaming, pleading
Slow motion, high definition,
All because of my “anxiety”