The Challenge I Didn’t Think I’d Survive
The Day “In Control” No Longer Fit
Let me set the scene: I’ve always been the planner. The checklist queen. The friend who schedules flights for the girls’ trip, emails dinner reservations weeks in advance, and still has time to bake a peach cobbler for the church fundraiser. My life was as tightly curated as a Beyoncé tour wardrobe—practically flawless. Or so I thought.
Then came my personal hurricane: The Breakup. Capital “B,” no soft edges. The kind that pulls the rug out so violently, you wonder if you were ever standing on solid ground in the first place. We’d been together for five years, and I was convinced this man—let’s call him “Mr. Potential”—was my future. That was until he sat me down one Tuesday evening and shattered my perfectly planned timeline.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’ve had heartbreak before, but this one? In the split-second it took for him to utter, “I just don’t think we’re ready for forever,” every carefully crafted plan I’d dreamed up dissolved faster than Texas snowflakes. And let me tell you, Dallas girls know a thing or two about fragile forecasts.
Can You Die of Emotional Overload? Asking for Me.
I won’t sugarcoat it. The aftermath was brutal. I fell into one of those deep, snot-stained-on-your-pillow heartbreaks. My friends attempted to console me with the trifecta of modern post-breakup survival: wine, long texts bashing him in group chats, and dragging me to yoga classes I actively resented. (News flash: No amount of downward dog makes watching your ex propose to someone new six months later sting any less.)
But the hardest part wasn’t the lonely nights or the deafening silence when he stopped texting. It was surviving the part I hadn’t planned for: feeling like I was completely untethered. For someone whose default setting is “Problem Solver,” this uncharted territory was like asking Olivia Pope to fix a scandal without her white hat. I was out of my element, raw, and honestly, unsure who I was without him.
Layers of Loss: It’s Not Just About the Relationship
Here’s the thing about big heartbreak. It doesn’t just rip the person out of your life; it sends shockwaves through every other layer of it. Suddenly, I wasn’t just mourning him. I missed the rituals—the impromptu Saturday brunches with his friends, the road trips with our perfectly curated playlists, the ridiculous traditions we’d carved out together.
I even mourned the version of myself I’d poured into that relationship: the hopeless romantic who bought tickets to the Al Green concert six months early, believing we’d slow dance under the stars.
One night, as I sat scrolling through Instagram with an ice cream pint in my lap (because clichés exist for a reason), the existential spiral began. Who am I without him? Would I ever trust anyone again? Had all that time been wasted? It felt catastrophic, like I’d failed the biggest test life had handed me.
Step 1: Let It Get Ugly
The first piece of advice I wish I’d given myself? Let. It. Get. Messy. Cry in the shower. Eat leftover birthday cake in bed at 2 a.m. Write a letter you’ll never send. Do the thing that feels ridiculous but necessary to release all the emotional chaos.
I spent weeks questioning everything, and rather than trying to push myself out of the grief too fast, I let myself wallow for just long enough. Here’s why that matters: You can’t skip healing. Pain can’t be shortcut, no matter how much you’d rather fast-forward to the “I’m thriving” portion of your recovery arc. The folks who pretend they’re okay immediately? They crash later. Trust me.
Step 2: Relearn Who You Are (Solo Edition)
Once I accepted that life didn’t conveniently pause for my heartbreak (how dare the sun keep rising?!), I decided to get to know me again. Without him.
I took myself out to museums and spent hours wandering with a notebook, rediscovering my love for art. I signed up for that pottery class I’d once vetoed because it didn’t “fit our schedule.” (Spoiler alert: I’m terrible at pottery.) And I went back to listening to Sade on vinyl, something he used to tease me about because “streaming is more convenient.”
Here’s what I learned: Relationships add layers to who you are, but at the core, you’re still you. For me, that meant getting reacquainted with the ambitious, artsy girl who loved big ideas, soulful music, and beautifully chaotic stories.
Step 3: Lean on Your People
I’m going to give you another truth bomb here: Post-heartbreak wisdom doesn’t come from some magical epiphany mid-jog or a perfectly framed Pinterest quote. It comes from your people.
The moment I finally felt like I was going to make it was one lazy Saturday, eating tacos with my best friend Jasmine on the floor of her apartment. She casually said, “Girl, you’ve been surviving hard things since middle school… remember when we stole your daddy’s Benz and lied about it? You’ll survive this too.”
For some reason, that hit. Because we all need a Jasmine—a friend willing to remind you of just how strong (and ridiculous) you’ve always been. Surround yourself with your tribe, the human lifeboats who see your value when you forget it yourself. And let them love on you.
Step 4: Turn the Pain Into Growth
Look, I don’t believe every breakup is a “lesson.” That’s a little too Eat, Pray, Love for my taste. But I do believe heartbreak has a unique way of holding a mirror up to the parts of us that need care.
During my healing process, I realized how much of my self-worth I’d tied to being the helper, the fixer, the one who made the relationship run smoothly. I asked myself: Without those roles, who am I? Answering that was one of the hardest and most liberating things I’ve ever done.
That’s the secret no one tells you about heartbreak—it doesn’t just end; it transforms. And in doing so, you transform too.
The Comeback Glow-Up
When I look back at that chapter now, I don’t see someone hopelessly shattered. I see someone who survived something really hard and came out more whole than before. The thing I didn’t think I’d survive? It taught me to stop relying on plans and start relying on resilience.
And if you’re in the middle of your own hurricane right now, let me remind you of this: You are stronger than you think. One day, you’ll wake up, and the weight on your chest will feel a little lighter. You’ll laugh a little louder. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll take yourself dancing to Sade under the stars again—for no reason other than the joy of it.
Because if I made it through, so can you. And baby, your comeback glow is going to be nothing short of legendary.
