Ten Tips for Surviving the First Two Weeks, Ashley-style

/ Ashley / 1 Comment

As far as I can tell the worst part of this whole thing has been the unpredictable nature of my mood. I will go entire days feeling invincible only to have a line from a song I’ve been listening to all day long send me into a fifteen minute sob session. Then, just as quickly, I go back to feeling fine. I have to wonder if this is what it feels like to be bipolar. It certainly feels like some form of insanity, especially during the low moments. Regardless, I’m still fervently believing that each day gets a bit easier. I’m still holding onto the idea that there is a linear progress to this mess. How straight that line is, I can’t really say. But I’ve been trying to think of ways to quantify my progress, which is ridiculous since I’m operating at an 80-20 ratio of emotion to logic. Emotions cannot be quantified, but it sure as hell makes me feel better if I can pretend otherwise. I thought about tracking how many times I cry, how many times I think about him, how many times I feel the bottom of my stomach fall out, how many times I feel like hurling because I’m so sad. All of these things sound completely psychotic, thus my insanity diagnosis. Then I thought about the progress: How often I see friends, how often I do things that make me happy, how many times I’m able to pull a mental u-turn, or how many times I’m able to cancel the pity party. Again, this is impossible since I’m far too close to the situation to assess it objectively.

Tossing all of this aside, I’ve compiled my own list for how to survive the first two weeks after a breakup Ashley-style.

  1. After making the decision, listen to Taylor Swift songs for approximately two days. Do this in the shower when nobody else is home and you have the opportunity to interrupt Last Kiss with terrifying sounds you’ve never previously heard come from yourself.
  2. Since you will have virtually no appetite, nutrition will be a nuisance. You’ll feel the affects of hunger – the dizziness, empty bile-bubbling feelings, the headaches, and general feeling of lethargy – but you will have no desire to eat anything. This includes your beloved carbs, gooey caramel and chocolate bars, ice cream sundaes, as well as the salads you’ve been eating in an attempt to lose a few pounds. I recommend drinking a lot of fruit protein smoothies by Naked and Bolthouse Farms. Since you don’t even have to chew, these are ideal for the days when you’d rather be in bed than sitting in a cubicle.
  3. Listen to Somebody that I Used to Know at least 300 times in a period of 72 hours. Claim to enjoy the entire album after two or three obligatory listens, then plug in your headphones, abandon any sense of self-respect, and put the song on repeat. Hey, at least nobody has to know about this. At least until you advertise it on your blog like a real genius.
  4. Sing karaoke. Don’t feel like you have to go by yourself. Agree to sing My Heart Will Go On with two girlfriends, and Dancing Queen as a duet. This may require you drink four 7&7s. Apparently you will also close the night with Losing My Religion, have only a vague memory of that and laugh about it when you pick up your car the next day. Promise yourself and friends that you will sing Rich Girl next week by yourself.
  5. When things are just too much to think about, turn to Grey’s Anatomy. You’re in luck since Netflix has the first seven seasons. Instead of feeling sorry for yourself, you can watch McDreamy and McSteamy do their surgical thing, wonder how Cristina’s hair has so much volume, and decide Meredith looks best with bangs. Be sure to wear sweats and cuddle up in fuzzy blankets. Forget that one of the blankets is one that his mother gave you for Christmas two years ago.
  6. Go to bars with friends on and be reminded of the fact that the only  men who approach you are 40-somethings in pleated pants. Decide that men your own age are children who sometimes wear men’s clothing. After reminding yourself that you are single and the “I have a boyfriend” line is no longer valid, adopt your own dating mission statement that eliminates the possibility of you wasting time with boys who are afraid to ask you to dinner: “If you don’t know how to pursue me, I’m not interested in you.”
  7. Expand your breakup music collection to include Fiona Apple, Lykke Li, Ingrid Michaelson, Lily Allen, Kate Nash, the entire new Norah Jones album, and one Cake song. Do not include Adele  since her music requires you to be drinking from a bottle of red wine while weeping. Seriously, it’s obnoxious and you will not let yourself sink to that level.
  8. Make it official by throwing away his clothes and dying your hair one night. That same night, decide to be a fearless bombshell and go to a party on your own and rock that red lipstick look you’ve always wanted. Enjoy yourself. See friends you haven’t in a while. Realize the elation that comes when you’re not tethered. Do your best to savor that feeling. You’ll need it when you’re feeling lonely.
  9. Buy a new journal. Your old one chronicles the entire relationship, but it’s far to painful to actually put pen to paper and describe how it all came to an end. So get a new journal, or at least tell yourself to, one that will allow you to write about your new life as a single twenty-something.
  10. Go to your cousin’s wedding. Realize that family members will want to ask questions or offer words of support. Tell them through watery eyes that you don’t want to talk about it. Run into the bathroom when Norah Jones’s Come Away with Me is played. Allow yourself only to let a few tears fall. Return to the dance floor only to cry when a Bee Gees song is played. Tell your dad you want to go home. Realize the next day that it’s kind of hilarious that disco makes you cry.

I can’t guarantee recovery if you follow these steps, but I do know that for all intents and purposes, this will ensure your survival. You will not crumble and waste away and you will live to see another day.

Feeling Like a Criminal

/ Ashley / 1 Comment

I’m thinking of doing this thing where I try one new thing a day. Just one thing I’ve never done before. I’m not talking about doing crazy things like bungee jump on Tuesday and steal a pair of shoes on Wednesday, I mean relatively little things to push myself out of my comfort zone.

I did two last night. I went to a vinyl release party at a bar by myself and I wore lipstick. As I’ve said before, I don’t know how to wear lipstick, so this was an exercise in makeup tricks and confidence. I was hoping one of my girlfriends would come along, but that didn’t end up happening. So I was faced with a decision: stay home and watch Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix while painting my nails for the second time this weekend and go to bed before eleven, or go to the Nicole Rae  and the Traveling Suitcase vinyl release party where I would most likely see people I knew. Also, at this party I would be beautiful and charming and meet fabulous new people.

So I put on some heels and went out. And I had a fabulous time.

This was bigger than me just going to any bar or any band’s release party. This bar was where Bill had performed several times. Part of his senior recital was held here. He knows the owners, and I met them through him. In fact, when I walked in, one of the first things I saw was a picture of him. His old band is performing there in the near future I guess, and the promo poster still has his picture on it. Nicole Rae didn’t hold particular significance for us, but the drummer is a good friend of Bill’s.

So, I ran into many people I know because of Bill. And I was by myself. I didn’t have a girlfriend to huddle with on the side of the room. I didn’t have a boyfriend or date to silently flirt with. I was all alone. I spoke to friends of Bill and when they asked how I was, I told them that I was doing well. Maybe I was hypersensitive, but I felt like I saw pity or something in their eyes, so I decided to talk about the elephant in the room and told them that we had broken up. They offered obligatory words and sounds of condolences, but I was quick to say, “But I’m doing alright. My life is going well right now.”

I was introduced by Jason, a perpetual bullshitter, to a contemporary artist who is also a professor. He did not look like a professor. Considering my source, I didn’t believe him and the guy ended up pulling out his university ID, proving that he is a professor. The professor then introduced me to somebody who he claimed worked with the FBI. I told Jason, the professor, and the FBI guy they were screwing with me and then I walked away to find someone else to talk with. I ended up bouncing around between groups of people and standing by myself throughout the night. And it wasn’t nearly as terrible as I thought it would be. Interestingly, some of my favorite moments of the night were when I was by myself, watching the band perform.

I also ran into an acquaintance from years ago. We ended up talking for a good chunk of time. She said she had been reading my blog and had wanted to talk to me. She said she didn’t want to send the facebook message because of the generic quality of nearly every facebook message. The conversation was great. It feels weird to report some of the things we talked about because I’m a human and there’s an obligatory sense of self-efficacy. But because I’m a writer and blogger, I suppose I tossed that idea to the wind long ago. Anyway, she said she had wanted to tell me that she knew what I was going through – she knew what it felt like to be struck by love only to have it pulled out from under you – and she was impressed by how strong I was. “You are so much stronger than you think you are, Ashley,” she told me. “You are such a woman.” And she said “woman” in the way that means powerful and strong and confident. She went on to praise me for coming by myself despite what I’m going through. It’s great to be told you’re admired when you spend a great deal of time feeling like a fool.

The band ended with a cover of Fiona Apple’s Criminal. I stood next to Jason, sipping my water, watching the band rock out, dancers toss hula hoops in the air, and audience members sing along to the same angsty chorus that I’ve been listening to all week. And I felt great. That last song felt like the universe telling me, “Yes, you’re going to be okay. Life continues even through heartbreak. We are all in this together, so join in with the chorus and remember what it is to be alive.”

That was love and it’s an ache I still remember

/ Ashley / 1 Comment

The other night I was talking to a friend. He broke up with his girlfriend about a month ago, but they’re existing as roommates until the end of May. We hadn’t talked in a while, and I told him a little about my current situation. He’s a good listener, didn’t push for more information than I was willing to give. I feel like he respected the fact that I was hurt and that was all I was really willing to say about things. I appreciate it when people allow me to just talk without telling me what to do. After a while, I get sick of my own voice and the story I’ve been telling to people for the last week, then I make the changes. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate when people suggest things, and really that’s what I need. I have to force myself to do the things that I know will make me feel better because my mind is vehemently opposed to doing anything other than wearing sweatpants and drinking wine from the bottle.

Anyway, he asked if I listened to Gotye. Because I’m an ignorant baby when it comes to new music, I said no.  He suggested a song titled “Someone That I Used to Know”” because it’s a perfect breakup song. Turns out this song is apparently played all the time on the radio. I had no idea. I told him it sounded terribly sad and that I probably didn’t want to hear it. But since I’ve started my own version of immersion therapy, I did. The idea is to listen to the saddest things for as long as possible to see how long it takes before I break down. A week ago, it took about two seconds of hearing a Taylor Swift song before I was having a hiccup-inducing sob. Yesterday, it took about eight hours of listening to Gotye and Fiona Apple to produce a quiver of the lip and the welling of tears.

Anyway, I watched the music video for the song and it hurt from the first twenty seconds. I mean that it hit me in my stomach and I felt this heaviness on my chest like somebody had placed a stack of textbooks on it and told me to take shallow breaths. It just stopped me.  My diaphragm felt tight. My arms were sluggish. I kept wanting to look away from the sadness and desperation in the guy’s face. I wanted to look away from his crooked teeth. I lost it as soon as he sang “But that was love and it’s an ache I still remember.”

I was wondering the other night about that. What am I supposed to do with that now? It was love. It is love. I have this enormous amount of love and compassion for this person, but there is virtually nothing I can do with it. What happens to that? Does is it just slowly fade away to nothing? Will it always be a part of me? The ache feels like this nebulous cloud that takes up space throughout my entire body since my flesh still remembers so many details. I have this idea that over time, it will begin to compress. All of these thin, mass-less sort of feelings and memories that I have will condense and compress into a marble that will sit as a part of me until somebody else awakens them. At that point they’ll just explode and I’ll be reminded of him and all the good times. But then these will be plastered over by new memories with someone else.

A week ago, the thought of that would have made me crumble. It still hurts. The thought of being touched, of being kissed, of being loved, or being in any way involved with anyone other than Bill revolts me at this point. I feel a twist of my guts, thinking about letting those feelings and memories go. Being in a relationship means you hang onto those things. They’re important not because they’re earth-shattering, but because they’re a part of the two of you. They’re part of the thing you’ve created. But once you’re no longer in that thing, they lose that importance. In fact, you’re encouraged to push them. Nobody goes so far as to say that you should forget them, but they say that they it will get easier. By easier, they mean you’ll remember it less and less. You won’t be forced to think so often of the incredible friend you’re losing.

So, while I’m keeping busy by seeing friends and doing things (tonight I’m going to a record release party, tomorrow I’m going to shoot a gun), I am acutely aware of this thing I’m trying to balance. I’m afraid that by being too busy, I will suppress the bad feelings and never actually deal with what needs to be dealt with. But I’m also afraid that if I dwell too much on it, I’ll enjoy my pity party too much and never move forward.

For now, I’m glad for my friends who have the amazing ability to tolerate my pity party while being both supportive and encouraging me to move on with my life in healthy ways. You’re all incredible people.

Navigation

/ Ashley / 1 Comment

I hate how much more difficult navigation is after a breakup. Certain places, movies, tv shows, musicians, entire musics now feel off-limits. Because they’re sacred. Because the two of you shared them together. It seems blasphemous to do these things or go to those places on your own.

I restored the ipod Bill had lent me when mine was stolen. I kept his music on it for the longest time, expecting to eventually buy my own and return his with all of his music on it. We said our goodbyes last night. He told me to keep the ipod if it was still working. So I did. I restored it and started adding my music to it. One of my all-time favorite albums is Deja Entendu. We listened to it on one of our first dates. He cleaned his room for me and told me that I would never again see his room as clean as it was that day. I thought he was joking. But he wasn’t. That album reminded me of high school, so to have a guy play that in college made me immediately nostalgic and like a sponge to soak up new memories. Soak them up, I did. I think that was the first time we really kissed. The first exciting kiss that leaves you hungry for more than a brush of the lips.

Anyway, I’m not ready to put that on my ipod.

Most of our relationship took place in Oshkosh. It’s probably for the best that I don’t live in that city anymore. I don’t feel ready to go to my favorite bar because I remember the time we sat by the bar while jazz played, and he folded up a dollar bill and somehow managed to squeeze it in my locket. He told me to save it for emergency money. It came out of my locket last night and I had what can only described as an anxious breakdown over a very crispy dollar bill.

Aside from the tangible things, of course my mind has become a minefield. I’ll start thinking about something and one thought leads to another until I get to the slightest thing that reminds me of him and then I start crying. I did that a few times at the mall last night. I started out fearless. Andrea and I went with me to do some retail therapy. I saw a pad of paper. One of those tongue-in-cheek list things. We used to send them to each other. I have the pads, and I would mark off lists like “Things You Need to do to Make me Happy” or “Why I Need to Have Sex with You” or “Things You Need to do to Make the World Happy”. And I would spritz it with my perfume and send it to him. He’d do the same, only spraying it with his cologne, the one we picked out together. I saw it in a little boutique and I started crying. It was pathetic.

It’s just surreal how dangerous daily life feels. The slightest thing becomes incendiary. I feel like I need to shut off my mind, because so much of it is filled with him. Nearly every part of my day has the potential to be terrifying, simply because my mind is so vulnerable and as a consequence, over-actively making connections as a desperate attempt to hang onto something I never thought I would lose.

No, this is not the end of my life. Yes, this is the end of a very happy chapter, and moving on is going to be one of the most painful things I ever do.