heartbreak

Heartbreak in any form is such a simple thing.

There is no reasoning with it, no pleading, begging, or bartering to make it go away. The pain is unrelenting. When your heart is first broken it feels like labour pains, except backwards. You have already experienced the beautiful miracle, and now it is gone, starting with an explosion of agony. Then, the miracle, in your memories, becomes a curse.

There are frequent moments of torture, when you see something that reminds you of the person; nothing simple, like a photograph (you've already hidden all of those), but a t-shirt, a book, a toothbrush. These moments feel like lightning has struck your heart; it clenches, burns, cripples you.

So you keep busy.

You try to keep busy, so your brain doesn't think about the one you loved, because as soon as you do, you can think of nothing else. You would become a useless mass of agony. You read or watch mindless television until you're so exhausted that you crash into a dreamless sleep.

Because the dreams are a whole new kind of hell.

Sometimes you relive the tearing of your heart over and over in a restless night of searing pain. Worse are the beautiful dreams. The reliving of the beautiful moments, the most loving and fulfilling of them, and then you wake up and it is like living that first moment of separation all over again. Dreams are complete torture, so you avoid them. Dreams and memories have become the enemy.

So you keep busy.

You force yourself to never think of that person, in the desperate hope that the pain will end. There will still be lightning flashes of pain: their name belonging to a stranger, an errant photograph, a favourite colour. The flashes are unexpected now and you catch you breath at the stab of pain.

In this time you may have learned how to smile again. You may forget your pain for an instant when something makes you laugh. You pretend to heal for the sake of others, and sometimes you are surprised that in pretending, over time, some form of healing truly has taken place. The moments of stabbing pain have become aches, throbs, or clenches, but the crippling wounds in your heart have dimmed.

This may never, ever, stop.

Sometimes the pain is eased by the love of others: family, friends, a lover. Sometimes it must be new family, new friends, or a new lover. Basking in these can sooth the wounds of a broken heart, and allow for love to happen again. You can find delight in others, and, except for rare moments, have become happy and content. The ache may never fully leave, but you may have found a new miracle.

Unfortunately, hearts can be broken over again.