I didn’t see it coming. Which sounds dramatic, sure, but isn’t that how life—the real, messy, character-building stuff—tends to unfold? There I was, in the middle of a scene I had convinced myself I’d never actually be cast in: the post-breakup survival story. And though I wish I could tell you I floated through it like some unflappable rom-com heroine (think Meg Ryan in You’ve Got Mail, charmingly sad but with perfect hair), the truth is, it felt like I was dropped into the emotional Hunger Games. Winner gets…what? Closure? Peace? The ability to eat pasta without tearing up? Who knows. All I knew was this: I was running on fumes and an unopened tub of cookie dough.

The Moment It Hits: “This Isn’t Rehearsal”

When the breakup bomb finally detonated, I thought I was handling it. Seriously. I even texted a friend, “We’re good. Totally mature conversation. Full Gwyneth + Chris vibes.” Then, forty-eight hours later, I found myself in my childhood bedroom, wearing one of his old sweatshirts (which I had very much stolen and was now swimming in because it was two sizes too big), ugly-crying to a Grey’s Anatomy playlist. Yep. The whole thing was cliché—it was just missing rain streaking against a window.

Here’s what no one tells you about these moments: you don’t just lose a person; you lose the imagined future you had built with them. All the little “somedays” you’d quietly mapped out—like Sunday mornings in a shared kitchen or bickering over baby names—disappear into the void. For me, those first few days post-breakup felt like free-falling through time. I couldn’t fully function, let alone picture life without him.

But here’s the thing: I did get through it. And spoiler alert? So can you.

Shock to Routine: How I Got Up (And Showered) Again

The first step? Honestly, it was just showing up for myself. Showering every day started to feel less like a chore and more like an act of defiance. I turned getting out of bed into a mission (Becca vs. the Comforter of Doom), and I started small: tidying my desk, walking to my favorite coffee shop, and making a rule that I could only cry in the car on the way home. (I call this the “Mobile Meltdown Restriction Act,” and it’s very effective.)

If you’re in the trenches of heartbreak, here’s what worked for me:

  • Create one small non-negotiable. Something manageable. Maybe it’s making your bed or doing one load of laundry. The point isn’t redefining your existence overnight—it’s giving yourself a win every day to prove you're still capable.

  • Delete their playlists. No, really. I know it’s tempting to marinate in “your song” and fall face-first into a nostalgic Spotify loop. I traded tear-streaked breakups songs for Lizzo and old-school Ella Fitzgerald. (10/10 recommend.)

  • Let the people who love you show up. My friends became my lifeline. Yes, they let me ramble about how “he had such a unique sense of humor” (ugh), but they also reminded me who I was before the relationship—and who I could be beyond it.

The Unexpected Comeback of… Me

Something incredible happens when you rebuild: you start noticing yourself again. The version of you that existed long before this person arrived on the scene. For me, this meant revisiting things that brought me joy once upon a time: screenwriting workshops, Pilates classes, and the incredibly calming ritual of baking challah on Fridays (okay, fine, sometimes I just watched YouTube tutorials about baking challah).

I also embraced something my Bubbe used to say whenever life got a little too overwhelming: “Start with what’s real.” So, I asked myself: where am I, right now—not yesterday, not someday, not two years down the road? The answer was surprisingly simple: I was in Los Angeles, single for the first time in years, with an Amazon cart embarrassingly full of self-help books. And that? That was enough.

Reclaiming who I was outside of “us” wasn’t easy, but it was undeniable. I slowly began to savor moments that felt undeniably mine. Buying flowers just because. Going to the movies alone and loving it. Geeking out over a new Al Pacino retrospective at the New Beverly Cinema. Turns out, rediscovering yourself can actually feel exhilarating (once you get past the cookie-dough phase, that is).

Things I Learned That Might Help You Too

Heartbreak is brutal, but it’s also ridiculously universal. There’s something comforting about knowing you’re part of the world’s most maddening, growth-inducing club. So, while I definitely don't have all the answers, here are some truths I picked up along the way:

  1. Feel it all. Pretend you’re in a Noah Baumbach movie if you have to, but let yourself grieve. Journal. Walk until your feet ache. Go full-on Leonardo DiCaprio in The Revenant and survive the bear (metaphorically, of course). It’s uncomfortable, but it’s absolutely worth it.

  2. Unfollow accordingly. Social media can be a minefield during a breakup. Block, mute, unfollow—whatever keeps you from spiraling. Seeing his third-cousin's beach photos isn't “staying amicable,” it’s self-sabotage.

  3. You were a whole person before this. Write this on a Post-it and slap it on your mirror. Losing someone doesn’t mean losing yourself. Really unpack that.

  4. Therapy isn’t just “trendy.” Seriously, talk to someone. Even if it's just one session, the clarity you gain can be life-changing.

  5. Celebrate micro-wins. Made it through a full day without crying? Coffee date with a new friend? Successfully avoided texting “I miss you”? All wins. Celebrate them.

  6. Clarity takes time. At some point, you’ll look back and realize how much you learned about love—the kind that works and, maybe more importantly, the kind that doesn’t.

The Plot Twist You Don’t See Coming

Here’s the kicker, the part that feels almost Hollywood-esque in its timing: I can honestly say now that I’m thankful for the breakup. It was a turning point, not an ending. Don’t get me wrong; at the time, I wanted nothing more than a dramatic reunion scene or, at the very least, a groveling voicemail. But in hindsight, what I really needed was to free myself from a relationship that didn’t fully serve me—not because anyone was “bad,” but because we weren’t right.

If you’re still in the thick of it, I get it: none of this feels remotely helpful when your heart is dragging behind you on the floor like a bad rom-com prop. But listen—even this moment, the messy, what-do-I-do-now moment—it’s going to teach you something extraordinary. About what you want, what you deserve, and, most importantly, about you.

The challenge I didn’t think I’d survive? It turned out to be the reset I didn’t know I needed. And if you’re going through it, know this: your reset is coming too. Hang tight. The best version of you is on the way, and trust me—they’re worth waiting for.