… they go where they are appreciated." ~ Robert McNamara
This ones for you, Carbs.
Recently, in a discussion with a new group of friends, the question was asked, "How do you mend a broken heart?"
Cue crickets chirping here.
After a few moments, Veli haltingly supplied an answer. "Well, you just…. just wait for someone to come along who will find you worthy. Because you're worthy."
The crickets began chirping again.
And then I chimed in. "It's time. It's always going to be time that mends the broken heart."
Carbs went on to explain it wasn't so much the break up he was reeling from, but the rather callous way she completely disgregarded him. It happens to the best of us, and just when you think you've heard the worse possible break up story, there's always another one that's even better/worse right around the corner.
With Dipshit and I, he casually mentioned in a phone call from Ft. Knox that he was "hanging out" with a girl named Jayla and he'd met her family.
"Wait, Jayla? I thought you were hanging out with a guy named Jay."
"Well, that's what I call her."
"And you met her family? Sounds serious!" I teased.
"Well, um, yeah. We've kind of started dating."
Yeah, that's pretty much how the conversation went down, not going to lie.
Another friend of mine I'll refer to as Barbie had suspected for weeks her husband Ken of two years was cheating on her. With his Visa bill in hand showing flowers and hotel rooms and such, she called her best friend Skipper for support while Ken was supposedly out with friends. Imagine Barbie's shock and dismay and utter rage (I'm projecting here, though I suspect it's true) when she heard Ken's voice in the background at Skipper's.
Yep. Ken cheated on Barbie with Skipper.
(Am I getting my Barbie characters mixed up? Is Skipper Barbie's sister? Is Midge the best friend? Does it really matter? Probably not.)
Someone else I know was married for a month when he found out his wife was cheating on him with her mentor/faculty adviser. Unfortunately for him, the bitch got everything in the divorce less than three months after the wedding.
Yeah, I said it.
But where do you go from there? Once your heart is lying cold, abandoned, and broken on the city sidewalk where it's getting walked all over, spat on, and kicked around until it's even more bruised and bloody, where do you go? What do you do?
My days went something like: wake up at seven, get ready for work, drive to work where I paid $12 a day for parking, kind of sort of work, go home, call whatever carry out place I wanted that delivered, eat in front of the tv, pass out on the couch by nine, wake up at eleven, go to bed, and repeat the next day. Don't bother to clean your house. Buy more clothes instead of doing laundry. Watch DVDs and read on the weekends. Maybe hang out with friends and or family every once in awhile. DO NOT let people come to your house because there is shit everywhere. And keep repeating until you break into your ex-husband's email only to discover he's not only been cheating on since before you got married but some of them were men. And then, and only then, do you realize: IT'S NOT YOU IT'S HIM!
When that happens seven months later, then you'll be ready to face the world again.
It's not a full proof plan, but that's what did it for me. Kinda sorta. I dated a few guys, was stalked by a very persistent guy (Oooooo… GREAT blog post for later this week), met Monkeyboy, began embarking on a very satisfying relationship with him, and then everything blew up in my face and not only was my divorce weeks away from being final, but so was my unemployment benefits and yeah, I had to face reality and move back to Detroit and in with my mother and didn't even remotely consider dating again until almost a full two years later.
But that's me.
The truth, cold, hard and bitter as it is, is recovering from a broken heart is different for everyone. Some people throw themselves into their work, becoming obsessed with balancing account sheets down to the last penny, brokering just one last deal before leaving the office at eleven at night, handling that one last customer who calls/arrives just as you're about to close for the night. Others turn to hobbies. They may spend the entire weekend bicycling Route 66, visiting battlefields of the war of 1812, kickboxing, pole dancing, scrapbooking, cooking, whatever. And still others decide to jump right back into dating.
One person I know began dating two months after finding a "Dear John" letter from his wife of 10 years. To say he's been in a series of pointless, doomed relationships ever since would be an understatement. The last I heard, he decided to find religion because his current girlfriend is very devout. This isn't a bad thing for either one of them, except on the whole, when you decide to adopt religion because your partner is, you're not doing it for the right reasons. Did I mention this couple can't even be open about their relationship because her 21-year-old daughter may be irrevocably upset about it?
So I really don't recommend jumping into the dating scene immediately. Otherwise you may find yourself in the above scenario and that's not good either.
What I do recommend is putting a band aid on, and try not to let the ouchie get hurt anymore. After a few days, remove the band aid, put some Neosporin on, and wait for the ouchie to scab over. I don't recommend picking at the scab, as it takes even longer to heal, but being human, you might. But when you're ready, take a look at your wound and think about what you've learned from this boo-boo.
With each relationship I've been in, or haven't been in as is the case with Clark, I've discovered more about what I want and don't want in a relationship. I've also learned a lot about myself.
With Dipshit I've learned that no matter what a piece of paper says, it's still just a piece of paper unless both people named on the piece of paper are committed to one another. With Clark, I discovered I'd like to find someone who still has a sense of romance and wants to share and enjoy both his interests and mine. With Monkeyboy, I learned my "O" wasn't broken (among other things). With Catholic Boy, I realized that even if the guy is smart, funny, good looking and fairly decent in bed, he can still be a cheating douchebag.
And with all of them I learned that recovering from a broken heart, no matter how small or large the break, it takes time. And that while the lessons you learned may not immediately be apparent, they are there and you will figure them out.
And don't stalk them on Facebook. It's just bad news all the way around.