After the breakup in January, I thought happiness was just a relative term. That happiness never truly existed. That what most people felt was contentment. I went through half of January, all of February, and 3/4ths of March depressed. I couldn’t eat, I struggled to sleep, I was losing weight too rapidly. I hid my pain behind false smiles, behind the makeup I painted on my face. I cried alone in my room, late at night. I wanted to die. I went to work where the little true smiles I had were reserved for my children. I was slowly wasting away. I contemplated my worth. And then my friend did the unthinkable. I was made to truly laugh. And I instantly knew it was going to be okay. I still couldn’t eat and most days were really hard.
I can honestly say, almost 3 months after that breakup, I’m okay. I may not be completely healed, and a part of me may miss J more than anything, but I know I can slowly move forward. Some mornings, I will wake up with this pain in my heart, and my day will be depressing but I’m strong, I’m okay.