I'm using a thesaurus to process my breakup.

"And I don't talk shit about you on the internet...that shit's embarrassing." - Billie Eilish

I broke up with my partner of four and a half years last week. I’m not sharing any exact details, only what’s necessary to convey how I’m feeling.

Photo by Nick Fewings

I’m on Thesaurus.com, looking up synonyms for “sad” because it feels too bland for how I’m feeling. As a writer and chronic yapper, I’m obsessed with knowing how something really feels for me. Heartbroken seems too dramatic. Cheerless isn’t right because my friends have cracked some really good jokes in the moments where they’re not sharing in my sadness (get you friends who will cry when you start to cry) or yelling about how I deserved better and someone else will jump at the chance to call me their wife (because against my own feminist, anti-colonial sensibilities, I do want a Tiffany engagement bracelet and a beautiful wedding).

One of the synonyms designated as a "weak match” was the phrase sick at heart. I haven’t heard that one often, but I think it’s mostly correct. Mentally, I feel worn down, like I’ve had muscle (heart) aches for months. This wasn’t a breakup I wanted or even thought necessary until it was absolutely clear I wouldn’t be getting my needs met, even though I asked many times. Each time I drummed up the vulnerability to ask and was met with a denial was a childhood wound being made open to the air, gaping and weeping with all the ways I felt neglected then, and now. My wounds needed tending to, but I couldn’t receive the care I needed to keep the relationship sustainable for us both. So, I’m leaving before I go into septic shock.

Still, despite knowing I’m doing what’s best for myself, I am some kind of animal in my hurt: Don’t touch me, but somehow, carry me home in your arms. My teeth are bared only because I’m scared. Maybe I can give up more. Maybe I can hurt for longer. I’ve done it my whole life, I know how to survive a sick heart. My god, I want to scratch and howl and sob at your feet, begging you to choose me, choose me, just fucking choose me! But also, never come near me again. You hurt me. How could you hurt me?

Here I go, having to nurse myself back to health on my own, I thought to myself a few days after solidifying that my life was, indeed, being upended. But a few minutes reviewing the texts and messages I received from my friends this week revealed the falsehood of that narrative. Synonyms for “support” used in sentences:

• My friends immediately sided with me when I told them why I was initiating the breakup, and continue to maintain the validity of my reasoning even when I feel doubt.

• I’ve heard “I’m here for you” and “Do you need a place to crash?” as my loved ones and friends make efforts to help me stabilize my situation.

• Every day, I receive some type of message meant to provide me comfort from miles away (I moved to the middle of nowhere for my ex) and remind me that there are so many people bracing me against the hurt.

• After applying to a bunch of jobs one day (a necessary next step to moving out of my shared apartment with my ex), I was met with cheer (literally) from a loved one for doing hard things amidst a hard thing.

I could have a regular bowel movement and my friends would tell me how proud they are. My self-esteem stays HIGH.

At my big age, I know the reason I could look someone I love so dearly in the eyes and say, “I’m leaving,” is because I have relationships with people (mostly women, a couple (2) men, and some thems) where I’ve been taught what it looks like for someone to choose me even when it inconveniences them. My friends choose me even when it costs them a plane ticket, or time, or mental energy. I have friends who help me move (some of them multiple times!!) and pick me up from the airport. I have friends willing to take time off work to see me when I’m in town (which, in this economy, is an act of love).

And it’s not just that my friends do things for me or I do things for them. These are my people. They make me laugh, but most importantly, they’re moved by my hurt. We cry with and for each other. We ask what each other needs. We think about our futures with each other in mind. I know what love that chooses you looks like because of them.

And when you know what love looks like, you know when to leave.

I’m not the first to lament the fact that there are so few words to describe people who feed your soul and keep you alive. What else are people you want in your life until you die, but life partners? What do I call the person that I only see every few months, whose life parallels mine without fail every time, but a soul mate? I’m pals with the baristas at J.S. Bean Factory (and I still wanna tell them I love them every time they nail my latte and don’t judge me for gettin decaf). The people I’ve known since high school that I talk to almost every single day are my loves, my life companions. My healing hasn’t been solitary in many, many years.

Unfortunately, I cannot talk about how much I love my friends without crying, and I’m writing this in a public library, and shit’s already weird in the library sometimes so I’m trying not to add to it. I’m gonna end this piece by saying: I’m going to be okay. I’m excited for my future, and still devastated that it’s going to be different from what I dreamt it would be when I first met my ex 6 years ago (yes, I did meet them for the first time and then immediately text my friend saying I was going to marry them, despite us not actually starting to date until 2 years later…I’m an Aries).

If you can relate to this period of life, I’m really sorry, and I’m also seriously proud of you for choosing yourself. I hope you’re supported and loved outside of the relationship. I’m so unbelievably grateful that I am.

Languishingly,
Dionne

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The Bits

• I am unemployed and now need to move out of a small city to either Chicago or Saint Paul, so if you’re able to send a cute, sorrowful woman a few bucks because you enjoy her writing and would love for her to get a new apartment where she can write and cry in peace, I’d greatly appreciate it!

• I make playlists for all of my moods, but it’s been YEARS since I’ve made a breakup playlist. This one’s for people who had their hearts broken by someone who’s not a bad person and/or they still love because the relationship was the healthiest they ever had. So many breakup songs are vitriolic and I just…don’t feel that way. I want to kiss my ex, then slap them, and then cry. You know? Anyway. “Enjoy!” feels like the wrong thing to say but…yeah, okay, enjoy! Listen to “what a shame.” on Tidal.

• I also made a playlist for those of us who have to choose ourselves. Listen to “I can choose myself.” on Tidal.