When you've been through as many break-ups as I have you develop a relationship exit strategy. Me? I have the "3-Day Break-up Break-down". It's simple, straight forward and, most of the time, effective. I allocate myself three days to mourn the death of a relationship. 72-hours, that's all you get. I don't care if we were married, dating off and on for 15 years, or spent a week whirlwind romance in Mexico . . . three days, that's it.
That 3 days consists of camping out in my bed cuddled up with a mound of snotty tissues. I cry myself to sleep, when I wake, and every moment in between. I cry until my eyes hurt as much as my heart. Sometimes I cry until I make myself physically ill. Because nothing says "pathetic mess" more than having your head in a toilet unleashing what faintly resembles lunch.
In the age of social media, break-ups are exceeding the pain threshold for the strongest hearts. Prime example: Long after we broke up, an ex decides to posts photos of us on his social media page. And how do I know? Of course I checked! Disclaimer: I'm into emotional torture.
My little heart has been stomped on, crushed, stabbed, and broken into smithereens. But somehow I manage to put it back together. It takes a lot of care and time to mend it. Sometimes I need the help of a stapler, tape, and hot glue gun. But eventually I allow my heart to be vulnerable again. All for the sake of love. Let's face it, I'm a hopeless romantic in a cynical age. It's a hard job, but somebody's gotta do it.
My biggest lesson is recognizing that life is too short and the world too vast to waste time pining for someone who wasn't meant to be my forever. I've learned to be happy with who I am and where I am going, even if it means to go alone. Because it's the moving on that teaches me to love once again. And I have no choice but to move on because dawn is breaking on day four.