How to Survive Heartbreak

A friend reached out this afternoon with a very simple question:

Girl how did you survive heartbreak? Please send tips 😭

In a heartbeat, I felt like I was back in Portugal, in the midst of one of the worst heartbreaks of my life. This spring, I had gone to Porto to write a manuscript, which I did accomplish—but it was a different book than the one I’d intended to work on. When I was asked this question, I thumbed through my journal to find the entries from April. I came across this paragraph that summed up my so-called writing retreat and the story on grieving that emerged.

I had planned to write a swashbuckling adventure of demigods defeating villains against-all-odds, but I have never defeated a villain. I have only loved and been loved and lost love. The simple version of why I wrote this story is in the attempt to get over a boy. It did not happen as I made myself pasta and sipped wine in my cute Airbnb in Portugal. It happened as I sobbed on the floor and ate Burger King that my friends delivered to my door from afar and marvelled at how many hours a person can consecutively cry.

(Journal entry from Tuesday, April 25, 2023)

I quickly realized that I would not get through my trip with a narrative of resilience. The pressure to get over grief is so ingrained in western culture that it’s now disguised as empowerment. Perhaps it helped that I was in a warm seaside town by myself, but I was done with pretending like I wasn’t absolutely gutted. I was done trying to feel strong.

So, dear friend, the first tip that I can give is reframing.

I’m trying to reframe the pressure I feel to write. This was meant to be a writing trip, and the rest (a.k.a. the extraneous, the heartbreak, the distraction, the spillage, etc.) takes me away from my work. But heartbreak matters—and how can love ever be extraneous? If anything, work is extraneous. Work is my way of processing life, the world, and my experiences in it. Love is life. Love is the world. Love is essential.

This trip doesn’t have to be strong independent woman takes new country by storm and power-writes a novel. It can be soft girl feels her feels and a novel emerges.

(Journal entry from Tuesday, April 25, 2023)

Whatever expectations you have put on yourself, throw them out the door. Your only job is to care for your needs lovingly, the way you would care for a friend. Celebrate the smallest things. You took a shower today? Amazing. You went outside? That’s wonderful! Those first weeks in Porto, I considered it a success to do just one thing every day—to go grocery shopping, stop by the post office, or buy eyedrops. The rest was a bonus.

Capitalism likes to force us back to work, so you will definitely feel guilt over not doing enough; having your heart broken throws a wrench in productivity. Fuck that. Go to the park. Eat a nice meal. Stare at the sky. Take time off. The last time I was this heartbroken in 2020, I took the morning off work just to lie in bed and cry. I told myself I’d get up at noon and go back to work. But then I didn’t. I called in sick and cried through the whole day.

My friends carried me through these times. Alisa sent me food from countries away. She looked up things like supermarkets and bookstores in the area and sent me links to their opening hours. Aidan texted me simple recipes that I could manage on my own. By simple, I mean very, very simple—like sardines on toast kind of simple. Serena listened to all of my voice notes. She answered every single one and asked detailed questions, like what songs I was listening to. She showed interest in the different aspects of my experience. My friends stayed on the phone with me for hours. They told me I was doing everything right.

At one point, my friend Morgan asked me to differentiate between “wallowing cry” and “cathartic cry.” It was worth questioning. I think the only way to know the difference is by sitting with those distinctions within your body and listening to the answer that comes up: does it feel good to cry? If so, keep crying.

If you can get yourself to an ocean, drop everything and head there now. If not, find the largest body of water in the vicinity and immerse yourself. I healed from my last heartbreak in the lakes of Mont Tremblant. The turning point of this healing journey took place when I submerged myself in the (very cold and turbulent) water of the Atlantic Ocean. I quite literally fell in love with myself and my life again.

The ocean is so restorative. I love myself and my body today. How many people can say that and mean it with their whole being? I love where I am and the choices I’ve made. I love the life I have chosen—one that allows me to be on a beach on a random Tuesday with the shining sun and the bluest sky and the teal waves rolling in. What a blessing to live a life where I can feel these things.

(Journal entry from Tuesday, May 2, 2023)

And that brings me to my last bit of advice for this difficult period: make art. I journaled so much. I wrote a goddamn book on grief, which felt like an exorcism but was also incredibly healing.

I couldn’t have written this book without loving you, and I couldn’t have moved on from you without writing it.

(Journal entry from Friday, May 5, 2023)

You don’t have to do anything like that, of course, but find a medium that works for you and express everything you feel. No reservations, or judgment, or explanation. This is no time for justification. It is simply a time to feel. Once you let yourself lean in, I think it will come easily.

When you are ready, begin to reclaim pieces of your life. People might tell you to throw out souvenirs, to stay away from places you frequented together, or to move. Unfortunately, when my relationship of eight years fell apart during COVID, none of those things were options. Some things will free themselves naturally from your life, but others, you can make your own. I wear the jewelry my ex bought me, because I don’t want to give away my solid gold necklaces. I eat at the same restaurants, with different people, and eventually, I forget how I discovered them in the first place.

Be patient with yourself, my dear. You are going through one of the hardest experiences a person can feel—but god, it is beautiful to feel things. I say that now, on the other side, when the haze of heartbreak has lifted and I can feel the rush of love anew. You are doing everything right.