I once told a friend that I didn’t think I needed the bad to appreciate the good. That I didn’t need the bad to know that God is good.
At 24 I entered my first romantic relationship.
At 25 it ended and I experienced my first “heartbreak.”
At 26 I met God as the mender of broken hearts.
I think pain thrives through silence. I was extremely hesitant to write this post or share anything on this topic out of a fear of looking like a care too much or share too much. Or perhaps I feared not coming off as the strong “superwoman” I feel like I’ve been made out to be. But I started this blog as a way to share whatever it is I was experiencing as I went through life as a Black woman in my 20s and beyond. When I need inspiration for new posts, I simply ask myself “what am I experiencing?” and go wherever the answer to that question leads me. But in avoiding writing anything about this topic, I felt myself stifling my main source of inspiration—my true and lived experience. Word of advice: don’t do that. And all of that to say it is never a great idea to act in submission to fear, so I won’t.
I don’t know why I thought I was immune to heartbreak. (Even writing the term out, I cringe because it truly sounds so cliché and in the grand scheme of everything that was going on in the world last year, it seemed so trivial.) I had been coasting through life with a pretty solid pattern of getting most of the things I really wanted. So not much had prepared me for a mid-pandemic breakup, or the complicated rollercoaster of feelings that would come along with it.
But it taught me empathy, which, in the context of breakups, I lacked. It showed me the ways in which I had failed to show up for my friends when they were hurting in this way, simply because I just didn’t understand how it could be that deep. I know better now.
And it reminded me that people will disappoint you. Always. Even people we love. It doesn’t mean that I should actively seek out a disappointment. It also doesn’t mean that I should withhold the love I have to offer. There is plenty of it, and the hurt that I once felt is proof of that. But for me, it is a reminder of why it’s wiser to put my love for God above all else.
Lastly, it solidified for me the fact that I am not for everybody, and because of that, building new relationships will take time. It’s only now at 26 that I feel like the pieces of the puzzle of my tribe are finally falling into place, a process spanning ten years since that’s how long I’ve known my closest and oldest friend. That is not to say there is a set time stamp on when to move on and begin new relationships. But it does mean that I’m no longer surprised that the process of doing so is lengthy.
I simply am who I am. And I am whole. I am complete. I lack nothing.
When going through heartbreak, you’ll probably be bombarded by all the messages meant to boost your ego in order to help you move on.
“They fumbled when they lost me.”
“I was their biggest flex.”
“They can search as hard they want, but they’ll never have another like me.”
I reject that mentality. I am neither better nor worse than any other person. I simply am who I am. And I am whole. I am complete. I lack nothing.
I once told a friend that I didn’t need the bad in life to appreciate the good—to know that God is always good. But based on how good I know Him to be now, and how incredibly good life feels now. I may stand corrected. And I think I even prefer it that way.
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted, and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18
