I once believed I was unshakeable—built like my dad’s concrete foundations, steady and immune to any storm. But life loves to throw curveballs, and a few years ago, I faced a challenge so raw, so brutally humbling, that I wasn’t sure I’d come out whole. It didn’t involve climbing some metaphorical mountain alone or surviving an actual apocalypse (though D.C. traffic can feel close). No, my test came in the form of heartbreak—the very public, all-eyes-on-you kind of breakup that makes you want to move to an isolated island, or at least start a new identity somewhere warm and anonymous.
Let me back up. There’s a saying my mom loves to use: “Sometimes life sweet you, and sometimes it bun you.” When things bun—you know, burn—it’s never just a mild heat; it’s an unrelenting blaze that scorches everything in sight. That’s exactly how it felt when my then-girlfriend, Shaila, broke up with me at my best friend’s wedding. Yup, you read that right. She ended things mid-reception, as in, while the DJ was playing “Before I Let Go,” and everybody was unreasonably hyped about the electric slide. Imagine standing in the middle of a dance floor, Beyoncé carrying on in the background, while your relationship crumbles before cousins, coworkers, and even your pastor—all ready with side-eyes and unsolicited advice. It wasn’t just a breakup; it was a public demolition.
How I ended up dancing solo with a plate of jerk chicken while grappling with existential dread is a story, but more importantly, it was a challenge that forced me to level up in ways I never saw coming.
The Burn: When It’s (Publicly) Not You, It’s Definitely You
Breakups are rarely easy, but there’s a special flavor of agony reserved for the ones where your faults are aired like Sunday laundry—fluttering in front of judgmental faces. Shaila kept it...honest. “Marcus, I feel like us being together isn’t helping you grow,” she said, which is breakup-speak for “you’re dragging me down.” Then came the polite but brutal add-ons: “I need someone who communicates better,” “I think you like the idea of us,” and my personal favorite, “I really hope you find someone who matches your vibe.”
To say this burned would be putting it lightly. I felt seen, but in the way a house feels seen by a wrecking ball. I started questioning everything: Did my “vibe” actually suck? Had my overachieving energy, my tendency to treat love like a checklist (secure emotional connection: check, annual couples’ retreat: check), actually driven her away? Shaila wasn’t wrong; between work deadlines, my latest novel, and trying to live up to my Georgetown LinkedIn endorsements, I hadn’t left much room for emotional authenticity. But hearing that was...well, humbling in a uniquely American-Idol-outtake way.
Still, when someone breaks you down—especially in public—you have two choices: fall apart or rebuild. Spoiler: I picked rebuilding, but it sure wasn’t pretty at first.
Phase One: Cry, But Make It Productive
There’s this stereotype that men don’t cry, but I’m here to say that’s a lie. I cried in my car. I cried while staring at an uneaten bowl of ackee and saltfish. I even cried in Target after accidentally walking through the Valentine’s Day aisle. (In my defense, those heart-shaped Reese’s were taunting me.) But here’s the thing—crying wasn’t weakness, it was catharsis. My Jamaican upbringing, with all its emphasis on resilience, taught me how to keep moving forward. What it hadn’t prepared me for was the sheer cleansing power of feeling things fully—you can’t fix what you don’t own.
So I owned it. I journaled obsessively, and yes, it was the kind of soul-searching usually reserved for moody indie films. Did I overthink why I signed every entry “Future Marcus”? Maybe. But if you’re going through it, I recommend a similar approach:
1. Write it out – Grab a notebook or your phone and spill. Think less Hemingway, more angry text-message drafts.
2. Lean into your music therapy – My heartbreak playlist ranged from Bob Marley classics (“Three Little Birds” gave me dubious levels of hope) to Drake's “Marvins Room.” Catharsis is catharsis.
3. Curate your support cast – My boys, Terrence and Luis, showed up with games of 2K and zero judgment. Keep people around who’ll let you vent, not drown.
Phase Two: The Mirror Moment
About a month after the Great Wedding Breakup of 2019 (we’re naming it), I did something truly revolutionary: I got honest with myself. Thanks to a long overdue pep talk from my sister, Mel, I realized I needed to stop blaming Shaila and instead look inward.
Relationships aren’t arenas, even if they sometimes feel gladiatorial. I realized how much pressure I’d been putting on Shaila (and others before her) to fit into my perfectly scheduled life—almost like I’d been chasing a sense of security rather than actual intimacy. One day, I stood in front of the mirror and literally said out loud, “Okay, Marcus, who are you, really?” I half-expected my reflection to answer me like in a fairytale, but truthfully, it was the question itself that mattered. Self-awareness is a beast, but it’s also step one on the path to real relationships.
Lessons From the (Love) Battlefield
If you’re walking through your own fires right now, I want you to know this: heartbreak, as dramatic as it feels, can be the ultimate teacher. Here are a few lessons I learned—and that might save you some unnecessary stumbling:
1. You’re Not a Failure, You’re a Work in Progress
Somewhere between overthinking and scrolling through old couple photos, I realized this was never about being “good enough.” Love isn’t a test. Shaila’s decision hurt, but it wasn’t a referendum on my worth—it was a reminder to make room for growth.
2. Balance Is Non-Negotiable
If you’re more plugged into your career than your partner’s emotions, it’s only a matter of time before things go sideways. My wake-up call? A friend jokingly calling me “Type-A with Type-Z availability.” Ouch, but fair.
3. Accountability Is Attractive
Shaila’s breakup speech stung because it had truth in it. Yet fixing those communication gaps (and my obsession with control) made me better—not just for my next relationship but for myself. Invest in growth. Therapy, self-help books, long walks where you analyze your footprints? All great options.
4. Your Tribe Matters
The people you surround yourself with provide the insulation you need during your burn phases. I realized this after a particularly epic pep talk from my mom, who reminded me: “The people who love you, love all of you—even the parts you’re still fixing.”
The Glow Up
Fast forward to now, and life’s looking brighter. That breakup that felt like the apocalypse ended up being one of the best things to happen to me. It got me back into therapy (shoutout to Dr. Khan), helped me ditch my overthinking tendencies, and even improved my writing. Sometimes, the fire you think will destroy you just sharpens your edges. And the next time someone plays Beyoncé at a wedding, you’ll be ready—whether or not you’re holding someone’s hand.
And if you’re still in the thick of it, just know: you’ve got this. Sometimes, life buns you first, but it’s only to sweeten things later.
