It all unraveled with a text on a Tuesday. The kind of message that sits in your gut like a brick: short, sharp, and ruthless. My relationship of two years, the one I thought was moving toward “forever,” was over. Well... over if you can consider a seven-word farewell ("I just don’t think it’s working") closure. No dramatic speeches. No breakdown in a coffee shop. Just a digital mic drop.

It wasn’t just the breakup, though. That same month, I got laid off from a job I genuinely loved, the kind that made me excited (okay, at least less grumpy) about Mondays. Add in a strained friendship reaching its breaking point and a family health scare, and it felt like a cosmic one-two punch. Honestly, it was as though the universe had flipped the table—the Monopoly board of my perfectly planned life now strewn across the floor.

For weeks, I lived on a diet of pity-party clichés: takeout, sleepless nights, and half-hearted Netflix binges. But when I hit the bottom of the ice cream tub—and, let’s be real, my savings account—I realized something had to give. This wasn’t just about getting over a breakup or finding a new job; it was about rebuilding the person I used to be (the one who didn’t cry in Target candle aisles). Here’s how I took my year of chaos and turned it into my favorite comeback story.

1. Let It All Fall Apart (And Feel All the Feels)

Ever heard the phrase “you have to feel it to heal it”? I hated it. But as it turns out, it’s annoyingly true. I tried to fast-forward through the heartbreak—convincing myself that post-breakup clarity could be achieved via 3 a.m. Pinterest quotes. Spoiler alert: it can’t.

The thing is, those messy, uncomfortable feelings like rage, sadness, and self-doubt are like lasagna leftovers—they need time to settle before you can deal with them properly. So, instead of pretending I was “fine” (like the liar I wanted people to believe I was), I let myself unravel a bit:
- I ugly cried to Adele’s “Love in the Dark” on repeat.
- I journaled everything, even the embarrassing stuff I’d never admit to my mom.
- I called my best friend in France at horrific time zones to rant until I ran out of words.

Giving myself permission to feel raw emotions—rather than shoving them into the “I’ll deal with this later” box—was a reset I didn’t know I needed. Because beneath the tears and karaoke screaming sessions came a realization: the year wasn’t breaking me. It was just taking me down to the studs for a serious rebuild.

2. Do Stupid, Small Things to Feel Human Again

When life serves you a hot platter of chaos, your brain goes into survival mode. The bathroom lightbulb burns out? Meh, you can shower in the dark. Dinner? A perfectly acceptable bag of popcorn, thanks. The problem is that, over time, “just surviving” stops feeling like a phase and starts feeling like your new reality.

So, I embraced small victories––tiny, stupid steps that reminded me I could still function like an adult. I began with ridiculous to-do lists that included things like:
- Water a plant.
- Fold EXACTLY three t-shirts.
- Take a walk—yes, even if it’s only to the mailbox.
Some might call this “basic self-care.” I call it “barely keeping it together.” Potato, po-tah-to.

But here’s the kicker: small wins snowball. Folding those three shirts turned into reorganizing my entire closet. Walking to the mailbox turned into actual 20-minute strolls around the neighborhood. The girl who couldn’t imagine leaving bed was now Googling hiking teams in my area (a plot twist no one saw coming).

3. Reevaluate the Stories You’ve Been Telling Yourself

Here’s one: I’d spent my whole adult life thinking that if I wasn’t “in a relationship” I was somehow incomplete—as though my worthiness depended on a second toothbrush next to mine. It sounds ultra-cheesy, but between scrolling picture-perfect couples on Instagram and every rom-com ever made, you start to believe the narrative.

When my relationship imploded, it wasn’t just my ex I lost—it was the version of myself I thought I was with him. A future filled with shared dreams snapped shut like one of those old-timey coin purses.

So, I forced myself to ask the big, scary questions: Who am I without this relationship? What do I actually want (not what I’m supposed to want)? One journaling session turned into twenty, and I started to unravel years of assumptions:
- That hitting milestones on anyone else’s timeline doesn’t mean success.
- That loving yourself is not what's left over if no one else loves you.
- And that maybe, just maybe, being single could be spectacular. (Spoiler: it is!)

The result? For the first time in forever, I started to feel... whole. And not in a cheesy wooden-sign-from-HomeGoods kind of way, but in a Beyoncé, “I woke up like this” kind of way.

4. Make Room for the Unexpected

Funny thing about rebuilding your life: sometimes, the best parts are the ones you didn’t plan. For me, that started with a pottery class my friend Harriet signed me up for (without asking, bless her overly-pushy heart). My clay bowl was an unmitigated disaster—lumpy like an avocado on its last legs—but for two glorious hours, I forgot about everything else.

One class turned into a weekly ritual, and suddenly, I wasn’t just making pottery; I was meeting people, laughing again, and rediscovering parts of myself I forgot existed. It wasn’t about the bowl (thankfully, because it was hideous); it was about showing up, being open, and learning what I was capable of—bad bowls and all.

Eventually, I took more risks:
- I signed up for salsa lessons (where I stepped on enough toes to spark a hotline).
- I went solo-traveling to Costa Rica and zip-lined through a jungle, screaming loud enough to scare off howler monkeys.
- I even wrote this article—a “pinch me” moment if there ever was one.

Letting the unexpected find me was like finding color in a world I didn’t realize had gone gray.

5. Own the Journey (No Matter How Messy It Looks)

If my Year of Falling Apart taught me anything, it’s this: “putting yourself back together” isn’t a one-size-fits-all puzzle. There were days I crushed it, sure—but there were also days I stress-binged “Nailed It!” while covered in blanket crumbs. And that’s okay.

Life doesn’t have to look like an Instagram highlight reel. Growth isn’t measured in perfect before-and-afters. Growth is the wildly imperfect process of becoming yourself again, piece by piece.

Moving Forward: The Takeaway I Keep With Me

Today, am I a brand-new, glowing, flawless human being? Ha! Not even close. I still screw up constantly and second-guess my outfit choices daily. But you know what? I’m also stronger, happier, and more grounded than I’ve ever been. I don’t just “like” myself now; I love myself in a way I didn’t even know possible a year ago (we’re talking Lizzo-level self-love vibes).

So, when you feel like everything’s falling apart, remember: sometimes the best thing that can happen is tearing down so you can build better. You’ll be messy, you’ll be mad, you’ll eat more takeout than you should—but eventually, you’ll create something extraordinary. And when you do? Well, you can thank that year for being your greatest teachable moment.

Here’s to rebuilding, one heartbreak and ugly pottery bowl at a time.