It all started with a simple text message. You know the kind – a little too casual, maybe a hint of hesitance. Andrew and I had been together for over two years, and though I had felt it was a solid relationship, that day felt different. As I read the words “We need to talk,” a wave of dread washed over me. Have you ever felt that sinking feeling in your stomach, where your mind spirals down a rabbit hole of questions? That's where I was. The ensuing conversation was difficult; he told me he needed space to figure things out, but what I heard was that he didn’t want to be with me anymore. The breakup hit me like a freight train, leaving me stunned and shocked. I remember sitting on my bed, staring at the wall while tears streamed down my face, wondering if I could ever get over this.

Friends said it would get better; they all said it. But the truth is, the days that followed felt like I was trapped in a slow-motion movie. I scrolled through every happy photo we had together, replaying every memory in my mind. How could he say he *needed* space? Didn’t he know that my heart was breaking with every word? I became a master at avoiding his social media, though my curiosity clawed at me, demanding to know what he was up to. Have you ever been in that position? When every fiber of your being tells you not to look, but you can’t fight the urge? I stumbled through days that turned into weeks, each one feeling heavier than the last, as the hole in my chest grew bigger with each passing moment.

As the initial shock faded, I began to realize that wallowing in sadness was not getting me anywhere. I reached a point where I started to question what I was truly feeling. Was I heartbroken or just bored with my life? I had spent so much time focused on our relationship that I had lost sight of who I was. So, I decided to make a drastic change: I would go out and *live*. I threw myself into new activities. I took up painting, something I had always been passionate about. I started running, discovering a newfound love for the wind in my hair and the rhythm of my feet hitting the pavement. Each mile started to cleanse my mind, allowing me to find clarity. Does anyone reading this relate? When you start finding joy in yourself versus relying on someone else for happiness? It truly felt like I was shedding layers that Andrew’s presence had encapsulated me in.

Weeks turned into months, and surprisingly, I began to feel like I was moving on. I sought out the support of friends who reminded me of the strength I had within me. I surrounded myself with laughter, which eventually drowned out the echo of his voice saying goodbye. But there were still tough days. Moments when I would see a couple holding hands and feel a flash of anger or sadness. I slowly learned to embrace those feelings without letting them crush me. Instead, I’d take a deep breath, let the emotions flow through me, and remind myself that it was okay to grieve, but it was also important to celebrate the small victories. Isn’t it funny how sometimes pain can lead to growth? I've come to understand that sometimes, endings are merely beginnings​ of something even better. That is what I held on to as I took each step forward, no longer just existing but *living*.

Each new encounter, each laugh shared with friends solidified the notion I was learning — love can be beautiful, but the most vital kind of love is the one for yourself. I had become my own best friend and found solace in solitude rather than sadness. I discovered what it was like to smile authentically, unrestrained by the fear of loneliness. Have you ever taken that leap, embraced the unknown, and found a hidden strength? If you’re in a similar place, struggling to get over a breakup, I can't impress upon you enough how worth it is to explore who you are outside of a relationship. It may feel impossible now, but trust me when I say, there’s a whole world out there waiting to be explored. Sometimes, you just have to let go of what’s weighing you down to make room for the beautiful things that life has to offer!

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