Thank You For Breaking Me So I Could Become A Stronger Version Of Myself

To say you broke my heart would be the understatement of the century. You destroyed me. Shattered me. Broke me. It’s been about a month and I still find myself from time to time turning over all the small details in my mind. If I hadn’t said that, would you still be here? If I had worked on my issues a little more, would you still have left? How many times do I need to go through this with myself? How many times can I go through this with myself?

At first I spent a good chunk of my time crying. No, excuse me, crying isn’t strong enough of a word. I spent a good chunk of my time absolutely, uncontrollably sobbing. My whole body just ached thinking of you being gone. There have been nights where I was certain the pain I was feeling was going to kill me.

But now I can go days, even weeks, convinced that I’m completely over this and that I’m ready to put it all behind me in the past where it belongs. The only time I feel peace are those fleeting moments where I forget any of this even happened. But it never seems to be permanent. The smallest thing will remind me of you and I get flashbacks to moments in our relationship—from the best memories to the most mundane, but never any negative ones. Is it human nature? Probably. But the mind is a powerful thing, and I’m convinced that those few moments where I forget throughout the day are my brain’s way of trying to protect me.

A couple years ago, when Folklore came out, I jokingly said to my mom, “Man I wish I was going through it right now so I could actually relate to the music.” I can’t even listen to Taylor Swift now because the music is painfully relatable. But T Swift was right—“you showed me colors you know I can’t see with anyone else” and “you taught you a secret language I can’t speak with anyone else.” With that bridge, she was dead on. And you did—you turned me into a mess and a fool. 

Can I put all the blame on you, though? No. I wasn’t perfect by any means. I had my fair share of flaws. But I had something that you didn’t—I had an unwavering faith in you and in us.

Were you wrong for not having those same feelings? Absolutely not. You may not be able to picture a future with me in it, but you were my future. And I’m left picking up pieces of a life that will never be.

I didn’t just lose you once. I lost you over and over and over again every day that I stayed, hoping and praying that your mind would change. I lost my sense of pride and dignity when I cried and I pleaded and I begged for you not to go. For you to stay. I was completely drowning in the chaos and darkness that was consuming my life and my thoughts. 

But this is where the most pivotal moment of the breakdown and goodbye comes in—the thank you. Thank you for breaking me. For ruining me. For leaving me in shambles.

Because of you, I was able to look at myself in my darkest hours and think, “What the fuck am I doing with my life?” I’ve had to reevaluate everything. Each piece that I pick up off the ground is examined closely, and if it no longer serves me, it gets tossed to the side. It’s ironic, but the best thing about being completely broken is the reinvention of oneself in the aftermath. I have never seen greater self-transformations than those of people who are finally sick of their own shit.

I’ve tried being angry. I’ve tried convincing myself that I hate you. But I’m not, and I don’t. You have played a paramount role in my life, and because of you I’m a better person.

Thank you for breaking me. Thank you for being the catalyst in my own transformation. I’ve had to take a long, hard look at myself and my character. I will come out stronger.