I’m going through a break-up.

By Ada.

At first, it seemed dramatic to describe it like this, but also, who am I if not a woman of theatre?

I am in mourning, I am grieving the loss of my first relationship but also understanding the ways in which I am healing. Healing isn’t linear. I’ve been drawn to, have been seeing a lot of wave-analogies and I love that. This understanding that feelings wax and wane, ebb and flow. Sometimes crash and overwhelm, sometimes make you feel alive and rejuvenated. And that balance is lacking.

There’s still a strange shame I feel. Like I’ve failed. It makes me want to cower and turn my back on everything and anything. So overwhelming, I’ve been sat in darkness, anxiety winning and mustiness taking over. At moments, I’ve almost understood Bella’s pain, but not quite because she’s actually insane.

I have a friend that’s put things into perspective in the calmest way possible. It was so simple it made me want to cry. Sometimes you have priorities, and you fit them around someone or you try to, until you realise neither of you fit truly. Wholly. And sometimes one person is wise enough to let go before it’s too late.

‘And that rejection hurts like hell. Because you want to feel like someone loves you unconditionally.’

I’ve been having moments of peace a lot more recently. Pockets and bubbles of freedom and clarity and gratitude. Not enough to stop the hurt but more than enough to understand that this was – is right. And I want to ride that wave forever. But then it crashes and it hurts like hell. There’s this niggling feeling that sneaks up. The safety of this companionship is gone from me. It is no longer mine. I don’t like the idea of people belonging to people but sometimes people do belong to people. This comfort has withdrawn within themselves until they find someone that’ll choose to love them in the way they need to be chosen. A person that was maybe never going to be me. It hurts like hell.

It’s also unforgivable. Read: I am slighted enough to almost want it to be unforgivable. There is no villain but blame will always awarded from either side, each with slightly skewed perspectives. Each with a slightly pointed finger peeking out from sly gestures. It twists and warps itself into anger. Not an overwhelming, all-consuming fire-hot hatred, but the clarity that comes from escaping a crowded place and breathing in air. I do have anger and that’s okay. Anger lets me understand that I am not wholly at fault, that this slight is as impersonal as it is personal. That I too am to blame but equally valid in this. That that balance I so desperately chase after looks very different from different angles. Too much and too little are personal preferences. This anger then mellows out into that peace again. A quiet that doesn’t push me to bargain and barter for love but rather an understanding that takes me to a place where things will eventually be okay. In the end, there will be no villain because there is no villain. There is and will only be peace. It’s just taking a while to get there.

Break-ups are weird. Tough when you have anxiety but more so when they’re right. They’re healthy though, they remind you to feel and to breathe and to live even when it hurts to do so. I’ve been doing a lot of feeling. The ink of a tattoo pen, the emotions of a well-written piece, the endorphins that exercise admittedly gives you, the creaking of your bed from crying to a playlist to the ridiculousness in your eyes and ears when you catch yourself singing and dancing in the mirror. I feel the awaiting arms of friends who care, the joy on your therapist’s face when you finally let it all out. I feel it all and I feel I will be okay.

Here’s a playlist of me going through it and also coming out the other side (sort of). If it helps, if it redeems me, I’ve only listened through it all once.