The Moment I Almost Gave Up: A Love Lesson On Survival

The Trip We Thought Would Seal the Deal

There I was, standing in the middle of Paris at sunset, feeling simultaneously romantic and ridiculous. What was supposed to be the perfect trip for my then-girlfriend and me was quickly unraveling faster than a cheap suit at a wedding. Forget the postcard-worthy Seine or the Eiffel Tower glowing against the night sky—this was a warzone.

We’d decided to take this trip to “solidify our future," because doesn’t everyone think a passport stamp will fix a rocky relationship? In our heads, we were Jay-Z and Beyoncé jet-setting through Paris. In reality, we were giving major Ross and Rachel “breakup on the plane” energy.

It started small. She hated my choice of dinner spots—I’d picked a tiny cafe that served coq au vin that even Julia Child would’ve applauded. She wanted sushi (in Paris! You see what I was up against?). By day three, every side-eye, missed subway stop, and unmet expectation stacked onto an already crumbling foundation. And the cherry on top? A heated argument in front of the Mona Lisa, which, it turns out, is way smaller and way less glamorous when viewed through tears of frustration.

The Moment It All Hit Me

The breaking point wasn’t in Paris, though. It came two weeks after we got back to Chicago. She texted: We need to talk. Now, you know the rule. If someone texts you those four words, go ahead and stock up on your favorite snacks because there’s a conversation coming that’s gonna shake your mental health like a snow globe.

We sat at the corner table of some bougie coffee shop in Lincoln Park. She sipped her lavender latte like it wasn’t a weapon of mass destruction. I thought we were going to hash things out—but nope. Instead, I got hit with the breakup speech, one that sounded more scripted than heartfelt. She even used “it’s not you, it’s me.”

Let me tell you, those words? Yeah, they feel like someone trying to feed you 7-Up and crackers as you’re bleeding out. Nice try, Janet.

Treacherous Territory: Learning to Breathe Again

At first, I didn’t think I’d get through it. Heartbreak is physical, y’all. It sits in your chest like bad barbecue. And for a minute, I let myself spiral in that pain. Sleepless nights. Eating too many takeout fries while binging every season of The Wire for “clarity.” (I mean, sure, Marlo Stanfield wasn’t relevant to my situation, but watching someone else’s chaos is oddly soothing.)

Eventually, though, something clicked. I can’t tell you if it was because I was tired of my own pity party or if I just ran out of fries. Either way, I knew one thing for sure: I wasn’t going to let this breakup be the brick wall that stopped my forward momentum. If I could survive Chicago winters and CTA delays, I could survive this.

Mapping Out Survival: What I Learned

Sometimes survival in love doesn’t mean getting the person back—it means rediscovering yourself when the dust settles. And if you’re stuck (like I was), here’s some real advice you can actually use:

  1. Feel It To Heal It
    Look, nobody wants to hear this part, but it’s true—ignoring your feelings only helps in the short term. Cry, scream into your pillow, listen to “Ex-Factor” by Lauryn Hill on repeat. Do what you need to do to let it out. Suppressing heartbreak is like trying to duct tape a leak in a sinking ship. You’ll just drown slower.

  2. Get Out Of The House
    After day five of sitting on my couch, I realized I looked less like a guy mourning love and more like a walking cautionary tale for DoorDash overuse. Go for a walk. Visit a museum. Hell, join a kickball league. (Yes, they exist for grown-ups. Don’t look at me like that.) Sometimes just moving is enough to start unclogging those emotional pipes.

  3. Reinvest in What Makes You, You
    I’d forgotten the stuff that fired me up outside of that relationship. So I went back to the things I loved before we were “us.” For me, that meant hitting up a jazz set at my favorite South Side bar and cracking open that Baldwin novel I hadn’t touched since college. Find your thing, and do it shamelessly.

  4. Lean on Your People
    Shoutout to my friends who made sure I didn’t become a hermit. They pulled me into basketball games at the park and roasted me for eating Froot Loops for dinner. (Laughter is medicine, y’all.) Your circle knows when you’re down bad. Invite them in. Lean on them.

  5. Remember: Love Didn’t Break You, It Built You
    As dramatic as I was during the breakup (like, why was I quoting Gwendolyn Brooks in my texts like a lovesick poet?), here’s what I know now: love doesn’t destroy—it redefines. Every relationship, good or bad, leaves lessons behind that sharpen you for the next one.

The Joy Waiting on the Other Side

Fast-forward six months, and I ran into her at the Art Institute. She was with someone new. So was I. Here’s the kicker—I wasn’t mad. In fact, I was grateful. Our relationship wasn’t the forever I’d thought it would be, but the person I became after it? That version of me would’ve never existed without that heartbreak and the fumbling lessons it taught me.

Getting through tough moments isn’t about pretending it didn’t happen. It’s about realizing that surviving even the most brutal breakup starts with choosing yourself, again and again, until it feels like second nature. Flirt with reinvention. Date your independence. Spoil your self-worth like it’s your birthday.

And for the record, stay away from sushi in Paris. Trust me on that one.