How I’m Dealing With a Break Up

Disclaimer: this is not a how-to article with 10 tips on how I’m dealing with a breakup. I can’t give you that right now because I haven’t come out of this yet. But I have a funny feeling that what I’m going through may offer clarity for others who are in my shoes, so I’ll share.

I hope this helps you if you’re on a similar journey. And if you’re not, perhaps you have some helpful advice to share with me and my readers.

Either way, I hope you enjoy this article about how I’m dealing with a breakup with my boyfriend, who I still LOVE.

P.S. For context, Tom and I have been broken up but living together since December (so about 6 weeks now, in case you find this article a few months after I post it).

A Little Background

My boyfriend and I have been together for nearly 8 years. It’s been a happy, loving, respectful relationship for almost all of it. But things started to change when I left my corporate job to pursue my business full-time.

Tom and I went from seeing each other in the evenings after work to being around each other 24/7. We lost the mystery in our relationship including feeling of missing one another.

Everything seemed to become irritating and frustrating. We had no space, no privacy, no alone time. This was especially hard for Tom, who’s adamant about his freedom.

As weeks turned into months, we began pushing each other away subconsciously. Both craving our own space, personal time, and individuality.

To me, a self-proclaimed codependent (but working on it), the emotional distance felt like abandonment. It was strangely similar to a feeling experienced in childhood when I lost my dad. He didn’t die, but my mom moved me from Colorado, where he was, to California, where no one (I knew) was.

The experience was traumatizing, as I lost a critical support network at an age when my brain was developing and forming my identity. The pain I felt, created a ripple in my life, and I made a personal vow to never let my heart break that deeply again.

So I guarded myself. I learned that when a partner begins to pull away, that I should run. Move faster and farther than they can, so as not to be the one that gets left, again.

That’s why I’ve never been broken up with in a long-term relationship. Because I learned to distance myself first.

Avoid the hurt, avoid the pain, avoid the truth, avoid confronting reality.

And so when I felt it happen with us, the love of my life, the one I was always “supposed” to be with, my king—when I felt him pull away, I subconsciously, without knowing what was happening, began to seek escape. I opened myself up to the energies of other men, welcoming their attention and validation, to feed my own incessant hunger for self-worth.

I am recognizing the unhealthy pattern here. Something is very wrong here, I know it, but I don’t know how to fix it…

Am I even supposed to?

Tom is my best friend, my business partner, my family, my king, my world… but I’m not getting what I need. Am I not voicing my needs? And if not, then why?

Perhaps because I feel judged and unaccepted when I do. It’s as though my wants and needs are less important than his.

Am I so terrible to also have needs that need filling? Is it wrong to want things that your partner does not want? And if so, then how does one reconcile getting those needs met?

Did I Voice My Needs Enough?

I am a dating coach, yes, And I’m damn good at helping people find love… but navigating 8 years into a relationship, this is brand new territory for me.

Learning to speak up, to use my voice as a woman, that’s brand new territory. Why is that?

Why haven’t I been speaking up before now? I’ve been believing that my wants and needs don’t matter… but why?

I’m concerned I’ve made a grave mistake. That I haven’t been forthcoming enough. Or perhaps I’m just growing up and learning more about who I really am.

Can relationships change and grow together?

What happens when one person grows in a different direction than their partner?

What if Tom wants to move to the suburbs and I want to stay in the city? And what can I do if I want to experience new and exciting sexual activities that Tom is not interested in?

How does one reconcile the inner conflict? Do you leave your best friend, your partner, your family member, to see about a dream? Without knowing how it will go or whether you even really want it anyway?

Or do you fight it? Fight against the longing, the desire, the craving for more?

Do you stuff it down and cover it up and hope that one day it will just die inside of you?

Is this what married people do? If so, I’m not so sure I’m down for that.

Why aren’t we taught about this in school? How are we supposed to navigate these transitions?

All my counselor does is ask me how it all makes me feel.

“Shitty, Jamie. It makes me feel quite shitty. And confused and frustrated and weak and occasionally powerful and sexy, but mostly, just shitty.”

And then comes the inevitable, “well I can’t tell you what to do, Emyli.” Good, glad I’m paying you to reflect back the spitting image of my own mess. That’s super helpful, thanks.

Should I Choose the Unknown?

Perhaps I should choose instead to leap into the unknown. To follow the feeling and not the logic. Examining the rabbit hole as I fall further and further down the dark, mysterious pit, never knowing when I’ll reach the bottom, unsure of where I’ll end up.

Is it the unknown that I’m afraid of? Or perhaps I’m avoiding ripping the bandaid off of past trauma. Could there be healing in the pursuit of more?

What would I learn about myself if I leaped? How would I become different? What adventures would I have to write home about?

Must the unknown always be so frightening? Has it always been this way? Do we all gravitate towards what is safe, what is easy, what is comfortable?

How far are we willing to step outside of that comfort that we’ve created? Is it even really that safe in there?

Or, Should I Work It Out with Tom?

I teach my clients not to settle, that they should always follow the feeling, as long as it’s coming from a place of love and not of fear. But I can’t tell where this feeling is coming from.

Does my curiosity and desire come from my fear of abandonment? Am I just trying to replace Tom before Tom replaces me?

Or am I genuinely seeking more of my own personal truth? And how would I know the difference?

I can’t seem to leave, I don’t want to. Stepping into a different home, without Tom? That doesn’t feel like home.

But living this same life day in and day out…? That is guaranteed to leave me unfulfilled. The endless routine, the rat race, the hamster wheel. I hate it. The monotony. The robotic, unconscious loop. It’s hell.

I need peak experiences in this life, after all, it’s the only one I’ve got to live.

I need growth and adventure and deep satisfaction and emotional connection. A partner that sees me, hears me, knows me, wants me, feels me, that wants to have all of me, and who isn’t afraid of the dark places inside me. Isn’t that what we all want?

Perhaps it is too much to ask of just one person. But without having those needs met, how can one truly be happy with their partner forever?

How I’m Dealing with a Breakup

The Tough Stuff

Everyone seems to have questions. Tom wants to know where I’ve been and with whom and why.

The single guys messaging me on Bumble want to know when I’ll be available to meet up in-person. I want to tell them, “never,” and then, “how about right now.”

There is a war raging inside of me. Tearing me apart. I am two people. One who is wild and free and bad, the other who is responsible, loyal, and good.

Some of these single men have wildly exciting propositions that my soul is dying to experience. But then my head gets mixed up and all I want to do is retreat into my shell and close my ears and eyes so I don’t have to decide.