What if I said the breakup is just the beginning, my love?
Life will not ask, it will insist that you start from scratch
I’ve been single for about 3 years now. Before that I was in a relationship for 11. Sometimes both those numbers shock me because I don’t think I ever imagined either would be true. When I was in a relationship, I never imagined myself single, and now that I’ve been single for a little while, that decade-long version of relationship-me feels foreign.
We’re permanently in a state of gradual change. Even on a cellular level, our bodies are constantly in flux. We inhale, we exhale, we learn something, we forget something else—all these itty-bitty changes that we take for granted mean we aren’t the same people moment to moment. And so much of our time on earth is characterized by this kind of incremental transformation—the growth we don’t notice.
But then there are those seismic moments that completely shift the trajectory of our lives. Those aggressive glitches in the matrix, that throw your entire world off-kilter.
Can confirm the ending of a 10+ year relationship absolutely falls into that category.
And you know, there’s a lot I could say about that experience, and I probably will over time; but for now, here’s my big truth: there’s going to come a time in your life where you’ll experience a moment of violent self-reckoning.
Life will not ask, it will insist that you start from scratch, on purpose. It will be painful, by the way. Frightening, nauseating, anxiety-inducing. And when that time comes, the only way you’ll be able to make it through to the other side is by asking yourself—
Who am I outside of this identity that I’ve grown too comfortable in?
In this life, we will accumulate labels: partner, parent, manager, homeowner, TikTok-er, Dr., Mrs., MBA, PhD, LLC etc. etc. We’ll chase them and stack them, and naturally they’ll start to get heavy. And while there’s nothing inherently wrong with that, the more we add, the greater the weight.
That means our foundation must be strong enough to ensure that while we amass all that life has to offer, we don’t lose the truth of ourselves in the process.
We cannot so easily allow our souls to be characterized in this way, because none of that is who we are. And at various stages of our life, we’ll have to confront these big truths, over and over again:
Who am I, for real?
Who am I when no one is looking?
Who am I when there are no expectations or limitations or distractions?
And if you can’t come up with a satisfying answer, a thorough, an honest answer, life will absolutely knock everything over until you figure that shit out. The more tightly wound you’ve become to this identity you’ve created, the more aggressive the undoing will be.
And so began my undoing.
Very violent, very ugly.
There was a lot I no longer knew about myself because it was information I didn’t think I’d ever need again. There was even more I never knew about myself and would now have to discover.
I think once you exist within the confines of a committed, serious partnership, both parties make adjustments, and a lot of our behaviors and decisions exist within the context of that relationship.
The habits that you think are yours and yours alone might actually be the product of your relationship dynamics. The preferences that you believe define you might in fact only be your preferences within that specific context.
After permanently being in the passenger seat for a decade, I had to discover whether I in fact, actually liked to drive (I don’t).
I needed to figure out if I even really had a type (I do, but it’s not what I thought).
I had to understand the shape of my anger look like when I give it free rein (blunt, thorough, intense, but brief).
And recognize what I look like when I catch feelings (Obvious—but also neutral. Depends on whether I want you to know or not).
And feel just how big my dreams could get, when it’s only me in the picture (mountain-high/valley-wide)
As I continued to disentangle myself, tugging at lost threads, pulling out mystery fragments—sorting by color, grouping by number, I realized I loved it here. The more of myself I pulled from beneath the rubble, the more I liked what I found.
There was so much to love. Even the pieces I didn’t like, I loved.
With every new piece of myself I recovered, I thought—oh, the woman you are, my love. The energy you bring, the nuance of your thoughts, the sweetness of your love, the way you shine? There is so much to love.
You are not perfect, but there’s so much to love.
And so began my becoming.
Very violent, very ugly, very worth it.
