Stages of Grief - relationship edition

In case the last few posts have been sufficiently vague, I went through a tough breakup this year. And it wasn't a "we just met" kind of break up...it was of the "we've known each other over a decade, exchanged 'I love you' innumerable times and ultimately it still didn't work out" variety. You know...that kind. 

If you find that explanation (and the post title) to be overly emotive, perhaps causing you to roll your eyes, then hey, cut me some slack! I went through a tough breakup! (that wasn't guilt-trippy at all! 😉) Also, since I'm not prone to overdramatizing, consider this the next three years worth of drama condensed into one post. 

Obviously I'm still working through some things, but I only have one good rant left in me. And I will not be offended if this is a post you decide to skip (I'll have no way of knowing either way). 

After that we'll get back to our regularly scheduled programming. 

Fun fact: did you know you can die of a broken heart? Chances are slim, but extreme emotional distress can cause excessive stress on your heart which weakens the heart muscle, causing heart attack-like symptoms (which can lead to death). Under normal circumstances it takes from hours to months for your heart to recover from 

"Takotsubo cardiomyopathy" or broken heart syndrome.

I freely admit that breakups are a perfectly normal part of life and things could be infinitely worse, but that doesn't make my experience any less meaningful. I try not to compare my circumstances to anyone else's because you can always find someone who has an easier or harder time with whatever the given situation. Grand scheme of things, it's not the end of the world...but that doesn't mean it was easy or unimportant. 

I'm not good at breakups...not that anyone is, I guess. But I seriously don't have a lot of practice at dealing with them. I'm not the kind of person who flits from relationship to relationship, trying people on like shoes to see if they're the right fit. It takes a lot for me to get close to people and when I love someone, I care deeply for them and become very attached. This has made my romantic entanglements fairly...limited, shall we say. ​

Unlike previous heartbreak, this time I gave myself permission to grieve. That's a weird concept, but when it happened before I didn't feel like I had the right. While the love, care and emotional investment of a relationship was there, the lack of a real, public, "Facebook-official status change" made me feel like an impostor, unworthy of the grieving process. I kept my feelings mostly to myself and dealt with the sadness and heartache very poorly at times. This iteration I met with a friend and cried over beer and pizza. My mother listened patiently to me toil through the hurt. I shared the Reader's Digest version with a couple people, which helped to not feel so alone while going through such a tough time. Even doing that was a big step for me, since I'm a very private person and rarely share personal details with others. I've acknowledge the sadness, pain and anger...and am trying to accommodate for them accordingly. 

The stages of grief aren't mutually exclusive. By that I mean you don't feel them individually. They can run through each other, one just being more dominant than another in a given stage. For me, they were out of traditional order (denial, anger, bargaining, depression and finally acceptance), as you will see below. 

The various emotions also come in waves - one minute you're fine, minding your own business, and the next you see something, hear something or for no reason at all are suddenly fighting back tears or containing your rage. As the days go by, there is more time between waves...slowly leading the way to acceptance. 

In case you're wondering, I currently reside in the anger stage, with a side of depression and glimpses of acceptance filtering though (thankfully I'm past "bargaining"). Fully embracing acceptance is still a little ways off, but I'm making my way there. 

Breakups and heartbreak look different person-to-person, because we perceive, react to and handle situations differently. This is how things have looked for me...

➼ Denial - a defense mechanism, the inability to acknowledge what's happening. A state of shock and disbelief.

This stage was mercifully short-lived (literally a few hours) and somewhat self-imposed. I was shocked, overwhelmed...and unwilling to interact with people, I decided to go see a movie. It gave my brain a brief reprieve before starting to process what happened. The pizza, beer and tears followed in short order.

Transitioning out of denial was accompanied by spiraling anxiety and a level of distress I had a tough time defining. I was confused by this particular emotional onslaught until it dawned on me that it was literally withdrawal. When you're used to communicating with someone every day via text, email, long phone calls or in person, the sudden inability to do so is painfully akin to "normal" withdrawal.

➼ Depression (sadness/regret/loneliness due to loss) and Bargaining (dwelling on what you could’ve done to prevent the loss; what ifs; clinging to hope or desperately trying to fix problems in order save the relationship).

These two stages happened fairly simultaneously. Depression hit first, with bargaining intertwining itself shortly thereafter. So many things had me constantly fighting back tears - from items of shared interest to songs or (no longer) important dates/occasions. The perception of the moments we shared together changed from joy-filled to painful...now all I feel for them is grief. 

Losing someone you're in love with is like a death...there are many similarities, including the lost of the future you saw together and the realization that you'll never see them again. I lost someone I loved - a confidant and best friend. I felt like I'd been knocked off my feet. And I'm mourning accordingly.

I kept asking  myself all the wrong questions on repeat.

The anxiety really messed with my ability to sleep. My brain refused to shut off. I've just recently returned to a place of normalcy, where feeling anxious has retreated to a background noise instead of a constant nagging throughout the day (and night). 

I needed to make a complete break, cutting off all communication, since every reminder dredged up now painful memories. We have quite a history, so while my reactions may seem excessive, it's because I've been here before. I have no idea how people manage when they can't avoid contact with their ex, when they're connected in ways they can't escape (coworkers, friends, family, kids, etc). It's incredible how many connections people make, technological or otherwise (I literally had to make a list, so that I didn't miss anything). Each item brought with it its own sense of loss, as I deleted apps, emails and pictures (even found one from college)...and, for the first time ever, I blocked his number instead of just changing the ringtone. 

• Fun fact #2: when you block a phone number (on a Galaxy S8 anyway), text messages just disappear into cyber space. They can be sent, but they'll never be delivered.  However, phone calls still make it through to voicemail. The phone doesn't ring on the receiver's end, but on the caller's it rings once and then goes straight to voicemail. I find that very odd...if a number is blocked, shouldn't it be...you know...blocked? 
• UPDATE: AT&T has partnered with Hiya, an app that offers caller ID, call blocking and spam protection. When a blocked number calls your phone, all they get is a busy signal (you know, like in the olden days before call waiting?). That's what I call blocking.

As I mentioned, I'm the one who asked for no contact and yet that was one of the main sources of "bargaining" with myself (on top of the what if's/wrong questions) - arguing with myself about why it would be ok to get back in touch. 

• His birthday was just over two weeks after we broke up...it would be ok to text him, wouldn't it? I'd be heartless not to...right? (I didn't) 
• It would be a shame to waste the custom print I had a friend sketch for his present...it wouldn't be weird if I mailed it to him... (yes, it would...so I didn't)
• Shortly after his birthday, I knew he was traveling for his grandfather's funeral. It would be ok to offer condolences, wouldn't it? (No...so I didn't) 
• When untangling out digital lives, I ran across a short story he wrote for me six years ago. I'd forgotten it existed...I wonder if he did too. It's beautiful and tragic...and it made me cry. Surely that's something I should share with him, so that it's not lost forever once I've finished purging everything? (Nope. Either he has a copy or he doesn't. If not, that now makes two of us)
• When horrible weather raged through his hometown, it nearly killed me to not know if he was ok. That was the closest I came to checking in. But that's not something I get to know anymore. I'm stuck being in the dark (and so is he) as a consequence of our breakup. 

None of those choices would have been the right ones, because I would have been doing them for myself. And it was part of dealing with the withdrawal. I wanted to wish him happy birthday; I wanted to know that he was safe and sound...I wanted a fix, a reprieve from missing him. But it would have just made things worse. 

The only regret I have is that I let him give up too easily. I should have offered other ideas and alternatives that could have possibly changed his mind...that way I could feel like I'd done my best to save things. But the emotional walls I'd spent a year lowering came slamming back up as things fell apart and I only just managed to keep it together. No brilliant strategizing was happening that day...only surviving. 

 

This actually popped up on Facebook
today. I found it amusing. :)

➼ Anger* - fairly self explanatory. 😡

- I'm so angry. At myself, at the situation...at him. 
- I hate that I was right. 
- I'm angry that he didn't listen to me. 
- I'm angry that I didn't listen to me. 
- I hate that we lost our friendship, after over a year of cultivating it and being the most functional we'd ever had. 
- I'm angry about how sad I am. If I could slap my heart in the face and tell it to 
get a grip, I would. 
- I hate how much he pushed and pushed. And pushed. And then was gone. 
- I don't like having my picture taken and I hate that so many selfies exist that I have no control over. Fortunately I don't have any to be embarrassed about (this is not a Jennifer Lawrence situation), but I hate that it's an effort I can't unmake. 
- I'm angry that I still think of him when considering whether or not to wear heels (note to self: always choose the damn heels!)

- I'm angry that when I see a couple being affectionate, get an email from BHLDN, AMTRAK or Pinterest with fall wedding ideas (pro tip: if you're wondering about a woman's wedding style, check out Pinterest...she's going to have a board with that shit) or run across something that would have made a perfect gift, I say "F*ck you" in my head (without the *...sorry, mom).

- I'm so angry he had any affect on my confidence and self-esteem...that he ever made me feel like I wasn't enough.
- I'm angry that I ever answered the phone and that I didn't block his number years ago.

- I hate that he always mattered...and that I never mattered enough. 

➼ Acceptance - making peace with the loss; letting go and moving forward.

My progress currently includes that ​I accept I'm going to be sad for a long time. Losing the person you love isn't something you get over quickly. 

Otherwise the closest I've gotten to acceptance is to have some "at leasts": 
- At least things didn't go farther.
- At least we weren't one month, three months or six months into dating when the same thing happened. 
- At least I wasn't stuck dealing with the "I told you so's" from friends who were around for previous iterations of this disaster. 
- At least, after 12 years, there is some kind of closure. He never realized how lucky he was...and I never would have trusted him enough even if he had this time. 
- At least I'm finally done. 

Putting this together has helped too. Writing, rewriting, editing, adding and removing sections has forced me to work through some things (yes, a longer version of this post existed at one point).

A couple final thoughts...

"Love always wins" is bullshit...and I say that without bitterness (ok, a little bitterness). Love alone isn't enough to maintain a relationship. It takes commitment, dedication and sacrifice. Love can't win without those other things to support it. Plus, love makes people do some genuinely stupid things...so always winning probably wouldn't be for the best.

​If my life had chapter titles, this one would be called "The Merry-Go-Round: One Last Ride."
(I'm already joking about it...that's got to be a good sign, right?) 

~ Katie Q.  🐧

*If I had a crystal ball to conjure up a vision of his future, this is what I'd see: he'll meet a 25 year old yoga instructor who enjoys jogging and hikes. She'll have seen just enough of her friends get married and start having kids to be a little less selective in her dating choices (since she wants to move on to the next chapter of her life). They'll date for a couple months before deciding to move in together. Since there's not enough room for all his nerd toys and her yoga mats in his apartment, they'll move into something larger, where they'll live for the next few years (between the increased cost of living and the fact that, like a good little millennial, she only eats organic, free range everything, they can't put much into savings toward a down payment on a house). Three months later when he finds out she's expecting, he'll pop the question. Since she doesn't want to waddle down the aisle, his friend's dad will marry them within three months after that. ​Because of her free range lifestyle, she'll decide to have a natural and drug-free birth, which convinces her that one kid (named Braxton or Unica) is more than enough. Though she considers herself to be artistic, after attending a couple art ministry meetings with him, she'll decide going with one of her bffs to the nearest juice bar for much needed "me time" away from the kid is a better use of her time. And since she doesn't like crowds, a plethora of germ-ridden children and the blatant commercialism, she absolutely refuses to take Jr. to a giant theme park of any kind. Ditto for travel in general...why visit places when you can have kale and quinoa themed brunches right here? Eventually they'll buy a house and he will finally achieve his dream - a mountain view, grey-scale facsimile of the life he always wanted.

That's not even wishing "worst case scenario" on him, which would be never moving out of his current apartment...living there alone, never committing to anyone because of the infinite possibilities forever calling his name, offering something new and different, causing him to miss out on the happily-ever-after he's always pictured and desperately covets. 

(What?! This is an addendum to the anger section, after all. I'm allowed to be a little vindictive.)

Worst case scenario for me really isn't that bad - I die alone with my French Bulldog after traveling the world. Ooh, or a Greyhound rescue. Or both. I'm down with being the crazy dog lady.