The Challenge I Didn’t Think I’d Survive

Picture this: me, perched on a creaky wooden dock at twilight, chin resting on a cold thermos of tea, unsuccessfully fending off a relentless army of mosquitos. I was crying. And not the elegant, single-tear-down-the-cheek movie cry. Oh no. This was the kind of ugly sobbing where you hiccup between breaths and your nose starts betraying you.

Why? Because of a breakup. A gnarly, gut-wrenching, like-your-own-life-is-a-Nicholas-Sparks-novel kind of breakup. I know, I know—it’s cliché to say, “I didn’t think I’d survive.” But let me tell you, I genuinely thought I wouldn’t. I mean, have you ever had your heart smashed so thoroughly that it felt like North Idaho’s famous July thunderstorms moved into your chest to stay? Same.

This is the story of what it took to swim to the other side of that storm (metaphorically speaking—though I did briefly consider swimming all the way across Lake Coeur d’Alene like some heartbroken triathlete).

Let’s dive in.

The Meltdown Phase: When Eating Cereal Felt Heroic

The first thing no one tells you about breakups is just how weirdly physical they are. It felt like grief had pinned me down and was sitting on my chest like an overzealous labrador. My appetite vanished, my legs forgot what “walk normally” meant, and I spent 48 unforgiving hours in sweatpants that could’ve walked away on their own at that point.

Small joys, like eating a bowl of granola or brushing my hair without crying at my reflection, became Herculean feats. Honestly, “self-care” wasn’t sheet masks and long baths. It was more like, “Can I survive the cereal aisle without screaming internally because Captain Crunch reminds me of him?” (It’s a long story involving his weird level of enthusiasm for sugary cereals.)

If you’re in this phase right now, here’s my advice: Embrace the chaos. Feel every awful pang. Let yourself ugly cry at Taylor Swift tracks on repeat. But also, attempt one small victory a day:
- Stand outside for five minutes with bare feet. Nature therapy works wonders.
- Eat a banana—you don’t even have to chew, so it’s low effort but high payoff in the energy department.
- Text a friend. Simply typing “Today sucked” can be a lifeline. And if your friends are as marvelously unfiltered as mine, they’ll probably send back a string of memes and reasons why your ex resembles an unseasoned potato.

The “Let’s Get Petty” Chapter (Or, Channeling Your Inner Rom-Com Heroine)

Once the unrelenting grief subsided, I entered what I can only describe as my “Beatrix Kiddo from Kill Bill” phase, minus the katana. You know the scene where she makes her hit list? That was me, but my list included things like:
1. “Get rid of everything that reminds me of him.”
2. “Eat an entire loaf of bread with brie because food is love.”
3. “Start looking better than ever so I run into him and serve MAJOR regret vibes.”

There’s something remarkably cathartic about tossing old love notes into a campfire. I’d suggest having a marshmallow handy so you can toast it over any smoldering emotional debris. It’s symbolic and also delicious.

And while I’m no advocate for revenge, honestly… who hasn’t considered posting a thirst trap just to gently remind your ex what they fumbled? You don’t have to actually do it, but the thought can be tremendously satisfying.

If you’re feeling feisty:
- Update your playlist to include songs that scream empowerment vibes (Beyoncé, Florence + the Machine, you know the deal).
- Try something you’ve always wanted to do but didn’t because he “wasn’t into it.” In my case, it was briefly experimenting with watercolor landscapes. Turns out I suck at watercolor. But at least he never had the satisfaction of knowing.

The Wilderness Cure: Relearning Who You Are

When your heart feels like it’s been hurled into a woodchipper, the best way to piece it back together is to slow down and remember who you were before “us” became a thing. For me, that meant grabbing a dusty backpack and wandering into the wilds of the Pacific Northwest for some quality Avery-and-trees time.

There’s something wildily grounding about nature. Standing on the shore of Lake Pend Oreille, where the wind practically slaps you across the face and says, “Get it together, girl,” felt very therapeutic. Nature doesn’t care that you’re single. The squirrels don’t judge you. The trees don’t whisper, “Dang, she’s been wearing that flannel for three days straight.” They just… exist. And being among them reminded me I could exist too.

Whether or not you live near the forest, try stepping outside:
- Go on a “no-pressure” walk. No fitness goals. Just walk in any direction and count how many clouds you can spot.
- Watch a body of water for five minutes. Streams, fountains, lakes, even puddles work great. Something about moving water shifts your perspective.
- Star gaze if you can! There’s nothing quite like lying under a galaxy of stars to remind you just how much bigger life is than the pain you’re carrying.

Rediscovering Joy (aka The Plot Twist)

Here’s a truth I discovered a few months post-heartache: One day, joy sneaks back in. And when it does, it’s absurdly ordinary. Like, I accidentally laughed out loud in Target because some kid plopped into a shelf full of toilet paper. (He was fine, I swear.) It stunned me to realize my laugh wasn’t forced—it was real.

For weeks, tiny pockets of joy trickled in. Laughing at bad jokes. Baking scones that barely resembled scones. Driving with the windows down as the wind tousled my hair. Gradually, I stopped replaying every “Why did this happen?” breakup moment and started thinking about possibilities instead. What do I want next? Do I want someone next? Or am I finally flourishing in this new chapter of “just me”?

And since you’re living your own story, here are small joys to invite back into your life:
- Try something ridiculous without looking for perfection. (If I can fail at DIY upholstery without crying, so can you.)
- Say “yes” to the spontaneous. Like trivia nights or midday ice cream trips.
- Learn to like your own company again. Go to a movie alone. Order pizza and eat it in bed. Be your own best date.

The Takeaway: Survival Looks a Lot Like Growth

Here’s the twist I didn’t see coming. That breakup? The one I thought would wreck me beyond repair? Turns out it pushed me in ways I didn’t expect. I became someone I didn’t know I had in me—stronger, sillier, fiercely independent, and weirdly grateful.

It’s a cosmic irony: The thing we fear most—heartbreak—is what often grows us the most, too. So if you find yourself crying on a literal or metaphorical dock, drinking cold tea while mosquitoes gleefully torment you, breathe deeply. This moment isn’t your forever; it’s just a storm to weather. And when the clouds clear? You’ll be amazed at the you that was waiting on the other side.

Trust me. You’re surviving this, one bruise and one beautiful step at a time.