The Year Everything Fell Apart (And How I Put It Back Together)

Sometimes, life feels like a perfectly stacked tower of Jenga blocks until someone comes along and pulls out the wrong piece. For me, that piece was last year—12 months of near-comedic chaos that left my life resembling the floor after a toddler’s tantrum. But as someone who grew up weaving together stories from both hardship and triumph, I know this much: falling apart is just the first part of rebuilding something stronger.

So, let me take you on my ride through heartbreak, identity shifts, and the fine art of figuring out what to do when your whole life feels like it’s circling the drain. Spoiler: It doesn’t involve sitting perfectly still and staring at your ceiling (though a good cry session helps).

Act 1: The Ground Beneath My Feet Gave Way

Let's rewind to January. I was juggling a lot—career, family expectations, and (you guessed it) a relationship that turned out to be less “soulmate” and more “situationship.” Cue the dramatic plot twist: a breakup via text. That’s right, a two-year relationship was summarized in less than 240 characters. Initially, I reacted how any rational adult would—I ate an entire family-sized bag of Hot Cheetos and rewatched Parks and Recreation until I could recite Donna Meagle’s lines word-for-word.

If this sounds relatable, welcome to the human experience! But the breakup was just the kindling. By February, my work-life balance tipped into total chaos. My freelancing gigs dried up, and a tiny medical scare turned into the kind of stress parade that made me cancel every social plan on my calendar. The final icing on this disaster cake? A big move from Portland back to the Southwest, where I felt torn between my desire for independence and the magnetic pull of my roots.

Act 2: Pouting is Fine—For a Minute

Here’s something I’ve learned: denying that something hurts always makes it worse. So, when my therapist casually dropped the phrase “grief stack” during our session, it resonated deeply. That’s when multiple losses pile on top of one another—a breakup, career disappointments, feeling adrift from your culture or community—and, as a bonus, they’ll team up to hit you like a meteor.

My fix? Embracing my inner drama queen, but with structure. I gave myself two weeks to ugly cry about literally everything. Every triggered memory, every bottled-up regret—I let it out. Try it—turn off the judgment and let yourself mourn. Make it a ritual if you have to:

  • Go for the full Eat, Pray, Loathe Yourself experience with tissues, chocolate, and a Netflix queue.
  • Dedicate a song playlist to your feelings. Mine had everything from Fleetwood Mac’s “Landlside” to some cathartic powwow drumbeats my aunt recommended.
  • Write letters you’ll never send. Sometimes, shouting at paper or a Notes app draft is the cheapest form of therapy you can get.

Act 3: Finding The Humor in The Mess

Grief and loss are non-linear processes, but if there’s one thing that made me NOT want to hurl my laptop out the window every day, it was humor. For instance, as I sorted through my belongings while moving, I came across a beaded necklace my ex gifted me. While sentimental, I couldn’t unsee the fact that it kind of looked like something you’d win at the county fair. With zero hesitation, I chucked it into the “Goodwill donate” pile.

Lightening the mental load like that became my go-to strategy for resuscitating my sense of humor:

  • I celebrated my messed-up milestones. For example, my survival breakfast became a cold, leftover tamale with a side of sparkling water. Gourmet? No. Resilient? Absolutely.
  • I joined a Native-led writing group and volunteered to become everyone’s proofreader, which doubled as emotional support therapy. There’s power in helping others while reclaiming your voice in a safe space.
  • I spent an unhealthy amount of time curating Pinterest boards to hypothetically redecorate my future house. Sure, it’s escapist, but hey, it encouraged forward-thinking.

Laughing at small absurdities kept me from spiraling every time things got too real. Bonus tip: find a friend who will lovingly roast your ex for their bad taste in memes or their inability to apologize. Trust me, it helps.

Act 4: Building My Way Back to Myself

By autumn, something shifted. I found myself walking barefoot across the dirt in my grandmother’s back garden, grabbing bunches of sage and lavender. She casually reminded me the plants grow back fuller when pruned—an indigenous way of saying “cutting away what’s dead makes room for what will thrive.” It felt like an “aha” moment in one of those kitschy inspirational posters, but she wasn’t wrong.

Here are a few lessons I started practicing:

  1. Returning to My Roots
    For so long, I tried to mold myself to fit into relationships and jobs I thought I should have. After everything went sideways, I started reconnecting with traditional stories from my community. Spending time weaving those back into my work revitalized my sense of belonging—something no relationship could give me.

  2. Making Peace With Messy Middle Ground
    Healing isn’t about showing up flawless; it’s about showing up, period. On my worst days, doing even one meaningful thing—texting a friend or playing my aunt’s powwow playlist in the background—was enough.

  3. Trusting My Inner Compass
    Honestly, we all know when something doesn’t feel right, whether it’s a lukewarm relationship or a soul-sucking job. I started listening to the little voice that said, “This isn’t it.” It led me to writing more, learning to cook my grandmother’s stews, and building a life where failure and reinvention weren’t scary—they were just chapters.

Wrapping It Up: From Falling Apart to Falling Together

Let’s be real: life might occasionally crumble like a cheap IKEA chair under too much weight, but it doesn’t have to stay that way. That year of breakdowns taught me resilience doesn’t mean bouncing back immediately—it means leaning into the chaos, sifting through the pieces, and choosing what’s worth keeping.

Today, I’m no longer scared of things falling apart. My career is on a path I’m proud of, I’ve rebuilt my relationships with family and friends, and I’m dating again on my own terms (and occasionally laughing about how my ex tried to ghost me post-breakup like I didn’t have his mom’s number).

So, wherever you are in your journey—whether you’re in the middle of your disaster year or cautiously stepping into greener pastures—know this: rebuilding isn’t about gluing yourself back together in the exact same way. It's about becoming a mosaic—a masterpiece that shines because of its cracks.