A month after the relationship ended, I went to hear Esther Perel speak at the 92nd Street Y. Married? For the first time in a long time, this wasn’t me. Then she asked, “How many of you are single?” As I raised my hand, a tear rolled down my face. I feel vulnerable. It looks official.
This may seem overly dramatic, but if you’ve ever broken up from a long-term relationship, you know it’s traumatic and requires a lot of deprogramming. Breaking up, even if it’s self-inflicted, can be like having open-heart surgery. Nothing can prepare you for this type of loss. Culturally, we don’t leave room for the complexities of a relationship ending. Whether it is a family member, friend or partner, we cannot acknowledge or respect the gravity of such a loss. After it’s over, closure and moving on become the main focus.
Let’s talk about romantic comedies. Romantic comedies often depict heterosexual women in a “come back to me” stage, while men are portrayed as less emotionally complex. Stories usually involve women taking time for themselves, traveling, dating again, or having some wacky misadventures before meeting their next partner. Or, she might live happily ever after, but alone, in a state of self-acceptance, independence, and strength.
Welp. It’s a wonderful fantasy, but it’s not reality.
I’m not ready. I also thought it would be a romantic comedy. I booked a retreat. I’m looking for myself. I practice yoga. I mused. I “come back to me.” Well, sort of. Ending my relationship forced me to face challenges (again) from my past, present, and future. It’s an algebraic equation: childhood + trauma + homosexuality + family alienation/breakup = chronic grief. What is the equation for your environment?
Typically childhood + trauma + personal identity + social community + career + financial security + access to resources and health care. It’s important to acknowledge all the factors present in any life transition, as ignoring one may result in an important part of your story being left out.
This is not a “happily ever after” love story. I’ve been single since Alex and I broke up. I tried to get him back many times but only when he didn’t want me back. I still think about him every day. I still dream about him at night.
I’ve been alone for a long time. It’s hard.
I have had great success at work. I made new friends. And my confidence? I finally know who I am, feel confident, and have found a self-definition that I can say I truly love. But I was still caught up in the romance. Everyone I dated frustrated me. No one communicates. Getting someone interested and sticking with it can seem impossible. Plus, it’s not just other people. This is me. I haven’t felt anything in a long time.
Birthdays and holidays absolutely suck. They just remind me of my loss and loneliness. My first Christmas without Alex was terrible. Of course, I spent it with Alex; we cried. His family expressed their hope that we would continue to be together. Alex and I had sex. What a mess. Still, I’m glad I got to spend that time with them. They still feel like my family. He still feels like family to me.
The following vacation was equally difficult. I’m afraid of them. I missed his family (still do). I missed our daily routine. I miss having people surprise me and go holiday shopping with me for cute gifts. Buy pretty wrapping paper and pretty bows. (I used to give it my all.) Not having moments like this leaves a void. I miss them very much. Alex feels the same way, and my desire for these shared experiences is especially strong during these times of year.
OMG, don’t get me started on Valentine’s Day! Alex and I have this tradition where we make sushi and exchange gifts. Very sweet and I was looking forward to it. So, I was unprepared to be an observer rather than a participant during this stupid holiday. Really bad.
I still miss Alex often. It’s not just him that I miss. This is the metaphor. This is our life. It can say “we”. “We” are doing this, “we” are visiting friends, “we” are going to France this summer. Instead of, “I booked the flight alone. I don’t know who I’m going with yet.”
Whenever I talk to people about these feelings, they’re quick to say, “Do you think you’re over it?” When they do, I scream internally while politely saying, “I think so . ” But my relationship with Alex has played such an important role in my life that I don’t know what to make of it. Exceed Something like that.
I know they’re thinking, Wow, he’s not done yet.
but we don’t understand Exceed loss; let’s go through It, but the loss is still with us. If you lost a family member, would you move on and get over it? No, your life will change. You add something to your life, and what you lose becomes smaller, more manageable, and you might not even think about it too much. But the damage remains. Alex was family to me and losing him means a lot. Will I “move on”? Will meeting someone new change my perspective on my relationship with him? There is no doubt that time and new experiences bring healing and change. Nonetheless, the memories of our time together will always remain in my mind.
There’s no denying that being alone is difficult, but culture, family, and friends rarely provide us the space to cope with the emotional difficulties that come with single life. Instead, all of these reductive phrases convey implicit judgments—comments like “you should enjoy being single” or “maybe you need to love yourself more.” They serve only as reminders of society’s expectations of independence and sadness, not empathy.
In fact, some people do “move on” and no longer dwell on missing their ex. Others don’t. Neither response is inherently “healthier” than the other. You might think, um, I Will choose not to think about them anymore. But how we feel is not a matter of choice. We must accept where we are, live with it, and resist the urge to judge ourselves by some imagined ideal. It’s a wrong assumption to think that if you stop thinking about your ex, your life will automatically improve. No matter who occupies your thoughts, life is still complex and challenging.
Often, it’s through (rather than around) pain and heartbreak that we learn best about ourselves and what it means to be alive. While ending my relationship was difficult, discovering who I was as an independent person without any relationship to shape my identity was even more challenging. This is where I become who I am.
Rodale Books
Excerpted from How to love someone without losing your mind Author: Todd Baratz. Copyright © 2024 Todd Butts. Used with permission Rodale Books, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York. all rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without written permission from the publisher.
