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

It All Came Crashing Down

“What else could possibly go wrong?” I remember asking the universe sometime last March. Ah, rookie mistake. It was like the moment in every horror movie when the protagonist tiptoes into the dark basement and asks, “Hello? Is anyone there?” You know the answer—it’s about to get worse. And so it did.

In the span of a year, I lost my job, ended a long-term relationship, and found myself fighting an uphill battle with my self-worth. It's funny how life has a way of piling catastrophes all at once, like a poorly Jenga’d tower. It wasn’t just one thing; it was the whole tower that came tumbling down, leaving me sitting in a pile of rubble, questioning every decision I’d ever made. Sound familiar?

For the record, I didn’t handle it gracefully. There were tears (ugly ones), frantic calls to my best friends, and entire evenings spent Googling things like, “How to start over at 30.” But somewhere along the way, amidst the chaos, I learned that sometimes falling apart is step one to falling in love—with yourself. Here’s how I started putting myself back together, piece by piece.

The Breakup Diaries: Dusting Off the Wreckage

Let’s start with the relationship. Have you ever been in one so long that the idea of leaving feels like breaking up with oxygen? That was me—three years in, and we had it all planned. The apartment, the future dogs, the joint Amazon Prime account. But in reality? We were holding onto “what could be” while ignoring “what actually is.”

Leaving him wasn’t the hard part. Staying gone was. Post-breakup, I was that friend—the one who won’t stop talking about their ex over nachos. (I owe my inner circle a formal apology, complete with handwritten notes and bottles of wine.) I felt like I’d been handed a blank canvas, but instead of excitement, it terrified me. Who was I without this person? What would life look like without the plans we'd made?

Here’s what I learned in the aftermath: grief comes in waves, but growth does, too. And the real breakthrough? Realizing that the love I was desperately throwing at someone else was the love I should’ve been giving myself all along.

Career Chaos: “You’re Just Not a Good Fit”

Oh yes, my career decided to turn on me too. In a plot twist worthy of a Shonda Rhimes drama, I was unceremoniously laid off weeks after the breakup. Cue Adult Meltdown #2.

At first, I played it cool—“This happens to everyone at least once, right? I’ll just dust myself off!” But inside? I was spiraling. Losing your job feels like being kicked out of a club you didn’t even know had a dress code. It’s not just the paycheck; it’s the ego punch, the 3 a.m. existential dread, and the awkward LinkedIn announcements.

But here’s the plot twist: getting laid off turned out to be the best thing that happened to me. (I know, I cringed typing that too.) With no office to go to, I finally had the breathing room to reimagine what I wanted my life to look like. I dusted off old notebooks, reconnected with my writing, and—after far too many rejection emails—landed a gig that aligns with my passion.

Pro tip: If this happens to you, take it as a sign from the universe to pause and pivot. Sometimes falling out of one lane is the only way to discover a better one.

How I Reinvented Myself (Without a Montage)

You’d think this would be the part where I tell you about my Eat, Pray, Love journey—cross-country road trips, yoga in Bali, long therapy sessions set to a SZA soundtrack. But no, I stayed in Dallas, cried a lot, and slowly started rebuilding what mattered. Spoiler alert: healing doesn’t come with theme music.

Here’s what actually helped:

  • Building a Non-Negotiable Morning Routine. Adopting small rituals helped me reclaim a sense of control—whether it was journaling for 10 minutes or playing Aretha Franklin while making my coffee. (Is it physically possible to cry when “Respect” is playing? I think not.)

  • Learning How to Be Alone. I realized I didn’t know who I was outside of my career and relationships. So, I took myself on solo dates—art museums, wine tastings, embarrassing movie choices (“Magic Mike’s Last Dance” anyone?). I found out I’m great company when I’m not judging myself.

  • Letting People Show Up for Me. If you’re anything like me, asking for help feels harder than trying to assemble IKEA furniture without the manual. But the truth is, your people want to show up for you—if you’ll let them. Whether it’s venting for hours or borrowing someone’s Netflix password, lean into your community.

Lessons from the Rubble

My shaky year taught me this: Sometimes life burns down everything you thought you needed to show you what you really do. Yes, it’s a lot like that scene from Waiting to Exhale where Angela Bassett burns her ex’s stuff—cathartic, messy, and entirely necessary.

Here’s what I took away:

  1. You Can’t Rush the Healing Process. It’s not an overnight express route. Some days, you’ll feel unstoppable, and others you’ll ugly cry into a half-eaten pint of ice cream. Both are valid.

  2. Your Worth Isn’t Tied to a Job, Relationship, or Social Media Highlight Reel. You are enough. Full stop. End of sentence.

  3. Bet on Yourself. Whether it’s breaking free from something toxic or pursuing a long-forgotten dream, trust that you can land on your feet—even if it’s wobbly at first.

The Comeback Is Always Stronger Than the Setback

Here’s the thing about hard years: they end. And when the dust settles, you’ll see yourself with clearer eyes. You’ll start prioritizing what actually makes you happy instead of what looks good on paper. You’ll stop tolerating what drains you. And you’ll discover that putting yourself back together isn’t about being the same person—it’s about being a better one.

So yes, my year fell apart. But in the process, I let go of what wasn’t working and found something far better: me. And maybe that’s exactly how it was supposed to happen.