When I first made the decision to end my almost six-year relationship, I wondered what on earth I was doing. Despite the fact that I’d been mulling it over and considering ending things for over a year, I still wondered. It wasn’t that I wasn’t sure — I’d been sure for a while. Things had been deteriorating for years, so a breakup was inevitable. In the most logical part of my brain, this was the only path left to take. And yet, in the deeper, more emotional region of my brain, I was asking myself only one question: Are you sure you want to be alone?
Loneliness is something we’ve been taught to avoid. We’ve been reminded time and time again that loneliness is a weakness — that you’re only desirable if you’re in constant company. That our worth is determined by the eagerness of others to spend time around us. That message is everywhere; it’s in mainstream movies, it’s in books, it’s all over social media. It’s presented and reinforced every day, so it’s no wonder that the thought of ending a partnership and choosing to be alone can be a terrifying one, even when we know it’s the right thing to do.
The thing about people in relationships is that no one ever expects them to be lonely. In fact, loneliness and the plight to escape it is one of the main reasons many people get into relationships in the first place. Of course there’s a big difference between being alone and being lonely, but that line has the tendency to become very blurred, and makes it hard to see clearly. Sometimes I look at couples and wonder if they’re spending time together because they really want to, or because they’re afraid of being lonely. And then I wonder if they know the difference, because I certainly didn’t.
“despite this knowledge of the pain and destruction a separation brings, there comes a time when it becomes painfully obvious that a breakup is about the only thing that will bring happiness to one or either partners”
The funny thing about breakups is that they’re kind of a double-edged sword. No one ever wants to go through a breakup. They’re painful, they can be messy, and they almost always involve a seemingly endless stream of tears, running mascara, and ice cream inhaled by the pint. And yet, despite this knowledge of the pain and destruction a separation brings, there comes a time when it becomes painfully obvious that a breakup is about the only thing that will bring happiness to one or either partners. It’s kind of like a workout; it hurts like hell when you’re doing it, but you do it anyway because you know at the end of it you’ll be a better person.
Of course, you don’t feel like a better person right away. It depends on who’s on the receiving end of the breakup, but I’d wager to think that both parties usually feel equally as devastated. It’s hard to feel like any of this pain was for any good reason, especially in the first few days. It took me a week or two before it began to sink in to my system, helped along by copious amounts of sad music and some intense journaling.
What came next was more beautiful than I could’ve ever imagined — I came back to myself. I woke up to each day completely aware that I was in charge of every decision. I began to exercise more, not because I wanted to look good for my partner, but because I wanted to feel stronger. I began to draw, not because I needed a hobby to fill the time, but because it gave me joy. I read books, I listened to whole albums on repeat, I went for walks. The best part of all was realising that it wasn’t the actual activities that were bringing me such joy — it was the absolute freedom behind every single thing I thought, did or said.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like my ex was a horrible person. In fact, our relationship taught me a lot and I still feel grateful for it and for the time we spent together. I don’t regret my decision to end things at all, but I wouldn’t change a thing about the past either. I suppose that’s the thing about hindsight: it either makes you grateful or resentful. I, for one, have nothing but gratitude coming out of this whole experience, which I think makes me one of the lucky ones.
This past year spent by myself has been wonderful. Even in the middle of a pandemic, I’ve been able to find gratitude for simple pleasures. It’s been so rewarding to come back into myself, to trust my own decisions, and to feel content with my own company again. To be happy alone, without loneliness. Maybe ten years ago, an experience like this would’ve felt like the end of the world, but as I get older I find that I welcome these painful and uncomfortable moments of growth. Without them, I wouldn’t be who I am. And who I am is an independent, deeply sensitive woman with so much growing to do. But this time, I’m looking forward to every second of it.
