I can’t believe I’m actually penning this down, finally.

I’ve been a little hesitant to write about the fact that my relationship ended; partly because I don’t really know how to write about it without making it sound like I’m either completely devastated or having some kind of post breakup glow-up. I’m neither.. There are times I do feel more confident and pretty. But that’s a story for another time.

What I find strange about a breakup is that I didn’t think about it much until I was in one. It’s quite a significant thing that could happen in your life, yet most of your life remains completely uninterested in it.

You still need to show up to work and there are still emails to reply to. Laundry doesn’t suddenly stop pilling up because you are heartbroken. You still need to figure out what to eat for dinner.

And somewhere between all those very normal things, you are supposed to figure out what your life looks like without this person in it.

He’s gone. Now what?

I remember reaching out to a friend the morning after the breakup and just being completely all over the place—mentally. I couldn’t think of what to cook, but I knew I needed to eat something. A shower always make me feel better but that day it only made me feel slightly better, but I did it anyway. I was very much in pain but I couldn’t just curl up in bed and be consumed by all of it.

I think one of the strangest adjustments was realising how much of my routine had been built around our relationship.

We were doing long distance at that point and we tried to see each other every 3 weeks at least if not 2. It felt like something we needed to do to keep the relationship going.

There was always another trip coming. Another weekend to plan, another bag to pack, another ticket to buy. Another amount of money I needed to put aside just for this particular purpose.

And to be honest, it was something I sometimes felt heavy about. Having to spend a good amount of money to keep the relationship going. Though I tried not to think so much about it. I loved him and obviously I wanted to see him.

Until I didn’t have to anymore. There was no next trip, no packing, no checking dates, no money I needed to put aside for the next time I’d see him.

There was just this space where all of that used to be. It was very quiet. And depending on the day, it could either feel incredibly freeing or incredibly sad.

The money was actually one of the first practical differences I noticed.

Yes yes I know it’s not particularly romantic to talk about finances when you are writing about a breakup but long-distance relationships are expensive.

Once I stopped travelling every couple of weeks, I realised I had some extra money sitting there and obviously time that normally would have gone towards travelling.

I signed up for Pilates. I’d wanted to for so long but for various reasons I never actually did. I remember going to my first class by myself and feeling intimidated. Thoughts like these would pop up:

“What if I can’t do it” “Are people around me looking at me and realising I’m suck at this?” “Oh my god i’m really unfit for this.”

But then I remember very vividly how I felt when the class finished. I felt accomplished and proud.

I’m sure part of it was because all the endorphins from the exercise. But I noticed that I was more proud of myself for actually showing up and showing up by myself. I’ve been going by myself and don’t even want to invite anyone to come with me because it’s like a me thing, so I started scheduling my next class cause that’s how much I looked forward to it.

Those first few Pilates sessions gave me this strange sense of accomplishment that I had been missing. I’d leave feeling absolutely sore but energised. I felt  like I had some sense of being again.

For an hour, I wasn’t thinking about the relationship or trying to make sense of what had happened. I was mostly trying not to fall off a reformer and control my breathing at the same time while my muscles were activated and pulsating. It turns out, it’s a pretty effective distraction.

Pilates wasn’t the only thing.

I signed up for therapy again. I finally started taking driving lessons, which was another thing I’d been putting off for a long time. I reached out to friends I hadn’t really kept in touch with and I started saying yes to almost every social invitation. My calendar started filling up again and except this time most of the things on it were mine alone.

I’m pretty sure I wanted to just fill the space as some form of healthy distraction. But I realised that there was this very practical realisation that I suddenly had more time and money to spend on myself.  And I don’t think I realised how significant that was until a few months later.

I still wanted to tell him everything

Strangely, even after doing all of that to fill my headspace, he was still the person I wanted to tell about it.

When I signed up for Pilates, I wanted to tell him. When I started my driving lessons, I wanted to tell him. He would have been the first person I’d tell those kinds of things to. And there are still small moments when the instinct comes back. Sometimes when I see a cat on the street, I immediately think of him because he’s very much a cat person.

It is such a mundane thing. You see a cat. You take a photo and then you send it to someone. Except now I’d look at the cat and walk past it.

It is one of the things I’ve found hardest about a relationship ending. You don’t only lose the big things but also all these tiny almost stupid habits you had built around the other person. For a long time, that person was him.

And then suddenly I had all these things happening in my life and I couldn’t tell him about any of them.

There are parts of being with him that I absolutely still miss too. Like the forehead kisses when he came home from work. Holding hands when we crossed the street. I miss having that kind of physical closeness with someone.

Sometimes the quiet makes those things louder. There are evenings when I’m perfectly happy being by myself. And then there are evenings when the sadness creeps in and reminds me that “right, this wasn’t how I thought things were gonna turn out.”

But something else happened, too

A few months after the breakup, I looked at everything I had been doing. I was going to Pilates regularly. I completed my 18 hours of mandatory driving lessons. I reached out to my old therapist to resume my sessions. I’d been seeing my friends more. I was saying yes to things. My last session with my therapist made me realise that I’ve accomplished quite a lot since the breakup.

Maybe even more than I had for quite some time while we were together. And this feels almost like a crime to write. Because I don’t want to look back at the relationship and rewrite it into something that it wasn’t or make his character the villain. I wasn’t secretly miserable the entire time. He wasn’t sitting there forbidding me from going to Pilates or learning how to drive. I could have done those things when we were together.

But realistically, my time, money and energy were going somewhere else.

A lot of the money I had left after my normal expenses went towards travelling because I wanted to keep seeing him. And now that money goes towards Pilates, therapy and driving lessons. Things that are, literally, investments in myself.

It’s the financial difference that has surprised me the most. Long-distance relationships are expensive, not to mention the mental energy needed for every trip planned. As painful as the break up was for me, there was something very freeing after it happened. Admitting that feels complicated because I never felt trapped in the relationship. I wanted to be with him.

Is my life better now?

I don’t know if “better” is the right word. Different feels more like it. There are parts of my life now that I genuinely like more. I like the progress of investing in myself. I like that Pilates has become something I look forward to. I like knowing that I finally did something I’d been wanting to do for ages.

Although I have yet to pass my driving test, I completed my lessons and safe to say I know how to drive now. I like spending time with friends again.

I like that when I make certain decisions now, I can think and make the decision without automatically considering what it means for my partner.

But enjoying all of those things doesn’t mean I don’t miss him. But missing him doesn’t mean I want my old life back exactly as it was. That’s probably the part I’ve had the hardest time making sense of.

I think we are often given two versions of what happens after a breakup. You are either heartbroken and miserable, or you’ve moved on and you are thriving. For me, I don’t really feel like either one.

Sometimes I feel really good. Sometimes I feel lonely and sad. Sometimes I feel confident and pretty. Sometimes a cat makes me think of him. Sometimes I’m lying on a reformer feeling ridiculously proud of myself for something I probably would have considered very small a year ago.

And naturally, sometimes I still wish I could tell him about it.  All of these things seem to exist at the same time.

Now what?

This experience has matured me in a way that I’ve never experienced before.

It made me stronger in a way I don’t think I could have understood before actually going through it. Not because I handled everything perfectly. I definitely didn’t.

But something I really didn’t want to happen happened, and eventually I had to give in to the fact that it had happened and then what?

Life just… continued.

There were still emails to respond to. Laundry to do. Dinner to make. And eventually, there were Pilates classes, therapy appointments, driving lessons, plans with friends and weekends that belonged entirely to me.

I don’t think I deliberately set out to reinvent myself after the breakup. There wasn’t a plan. There was just time, money and space that suddenly came back to me.

I feel different now. Not necessarily better or completely healed. But I really like the person who walked into a Pilates studio alone even though she was intimidated. I like that she’s learning how to drive and she’s seeing her friends more. I like that she’s slowly figuring out what she wants to do with her own time again.

He’s gone. I’m still here. But it doesn’t hurt as much anymore.

— C. Sol