Breaking Up Is Hard To Do: On Heartbreak + Healing

“We just broke up.”

I texted a few of my closest friends after it happened and he left, sitting in a puddle of my own tears, trying to process our conversation. Ingrid Michaelson was still playing softly in the background (thanks Alexa) and I just sat there, shocked and silent.

My gal pal Paulina called from literally across the world in Germany. “Maelyn, are you okay? What happened?” I summarized our conversation as best as I could, pausing only for hiccups and sobs.

It’s been weeks since.

This was my first real relationship and my first real breakup. The relationship was lovely and all things good, the breakup has been difficult and all things challenging.

When I thought about writing this blog post, about getting real with the world, I thought maybe I should do a How to Survive a Breakup 101. The post would include: listen to LANY’s Malibu Nights album (the best breakup songs of all time) and eat lots of ice cream. Take long, hot bubble baths and call your mom twice a day.

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that if I want to get real with the world, I have to share my story. I can’t just make some cute-sie post about jamming out to Taylor Swift and rambling to my friends.

There is a reason it’s called heartbreak.

Because when we were together, all felt right and good and whole. When we were together, it was laughter and sunshine and chit-chats over coffee.

But when it ended, everything felt wrong and bad and broken. When it ended, it was crying in my apartment alone and cloudy skies and sitting in silence while my coffee grew cold.

So yeah, the past few weeks have not been ideal, to say the least. They haven’t been fun and they haven’t been great. They’ve been really hard and lonely and sad and scary. They’ve been pretty dark and depressing and isolating and joy-sucking.

There is also a reason it’s called healing.

Because at the end of the day, when I pick up the pieces of my poor little tattered heart, and give those pieces over to Jesus Man himself, I find my peace. I find my hope. I find my rest.

Because I feel a little bit better each time my friends come over and make me dinner, because I can breathe a bit more when the littles I nanny come and hug me. Because even though he was a big part of my life, he was not my whole life. My faith is my whole life.

So yeah, my life looks a little different now.

Actually, a lot different. I don’t see my former best buddy every day. We don’t text or talk, at least not right now.

But in other ways, it is the same: I still go to work (now nannying, not legal assistant-ing). I still see my friends. I still climb regularly. I still drink way too much coffee and eat way too many tacos.

And yes, I’m a little sadder and a little lonelier. And yes, I am re-learning how to be alone without being lonely. But also yes, I am surrounded by the best friends and family a gal can have. And yes, I have a wonderful church community.

And yes, Jesus Man is good to me every single day, even the hard days, even the lonely days. And yes, I’ll keep pressing on, because even though breaking up is hard to do, God always, always, ALWAYS heal the broken-hearted.



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