I’ve been in love enough times to know it’s not always candlelight and slow dances. Sometimes it’s betrayal in the form of a text. Sometimes it’s silence where there used to be warmth. And sometimes it’s watching someone choose someone else while you’re still holding all the memories.
When it happened to me — the breakup, the rejection, the slow unraveling I didn’t see coming — I thought the only way through was to distract myself. Rebounds. Drastic haircuts. Midnight scrolling through their new photos like I was conducting an investigation for a crime that only existed in my chest.
But here’s what I learned the hard way: the only way I was going to survive this was if I stopped making my life harder than it already was.
Loving Myself (For Real This Time)
I used to think self-love was just about “treating myself.” Dinner out, new clothes, expensive trips — all in the name of “healing.” But the truth is, I was maxing out credit cards and maxing out my nerves. It wasn’t self-love; it was self-distraction with a side of financial anxiety.
The real self-love came when I started making choices that didn’t make tomorrow harder than today.
Not Stressing My Future to Numb My Present
After the breakup, there was a moment when I almost booked a ridiculously overpriced weekend getaway just to “find myself.” Another time, I almost texted someone I knew was a bad idea, because being lonely felt worse than being hurt.
That’s when it hit me: if I was going to climb out of this mess, I needed peace of mind more than I needed a distraction. And peace of mind only comes when you stop lighting fires you’ll have to put out later.
What I Did to Give My Heart a Fighting Chance
- I carved out breathing space. One hour a day, no screens, no stalking, no replaying the “what ifs.” Just walking, coffee, and breathing without a timeline.
- I stopped sabotaging myself with “comfort spending.” I started seeing frugality not as punishment, but as a way to keep my freedom intact. Love had already cost me enough.
- I unfollowed the triggers. I didn’t need to watch their “moving on” montage. Let them live their life out of my sight, so I could start living mine.
Healing… finally.
Healing wasn’t a single moment of clarity. It was dozens of tiny, unglamorous choices I had to make every day. And slowly, my chest didn’t feel as heavy.
I still want love — I just don’t want to lose myself in it again.
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