Opinion | He loves me, he loves me not

How I have gone through the process of wrestling with a breakup, through the five stages of grief. Illustration by WYATT LINCOLN, illustrator

On a random Monday in September, my boyfriend of over two years broke up with me. I sat there dumbfounded, with tears soaking the collar of my shirt as a million thoughts flew through my head. 

Taylor Bazella, features & entertainment staff writer

In the following weeks, time seemed to stand still as I grappled with the idea of grieving my first relationship. My first love. People say that your first heartbreak is the hardest. I never really understood what they meant until I found myself undergoing each of the five stages of grief to say goodbye to a person who had become my best friend.  

Denial 

I woke up the morning after the breakup feeling … okay. It made me uneasy. Friends and family asked me how I was doing, and to be honest, the answer was fine. I felt happy, even. I thought to myself, “Does this mean I’m actually okay? Did this breakup not shatter me the way I thought it would?”

Looking back at those feelings now, I was definitely in the first stage of grief: denial. Part of that elation was due to this idea in my mind that maybe this breakup would be temporary. Maybe we will get back together. I didn’t really want to talk to anyone about the breakup or about how I felt. I didn’t want to talk about it because I didn’t want it to be real. This went on for about a week before the pain knocked the wind out of me and I realized the permanence of the situation. 

Anger

The anger didn’t come right away. At first, I wondered if it would ever come. How could I be angry at someone who I’ve grown my life around for the past two years? The breakup didn’t give me any reason to be mad at him. There was no cheating or ghosting; it was just simply time for us each to grow on our own.

But then I started to think more about the relationship. I always felt like the one who had to put in the extra effort to make sure we talked through our disagreements, always wanting to learn from our mistakes. These feelings of anger were released by playing breakup music a bit too loud in my car on the way to school, screaming “Death By A Thousand Cuts” by Taylor Swift until my voice went hoarse. 

Bargaining 

After another painfully slow week of wallowing in self-pity, I began to question myself and how I could’ve prevented this from happening. My ex had always felt guilty having fun in college, knowing that I was having a below average time myself. 

So what if I had been more outgoing? What if I had pushed myself to break out of my shell just a little bit more? Would we still be dating? The what-ifs and “shoulda, coulda, wouldas” took over my thoughts entirely throughout every waking moment. 

This felt like the worst stage yet, considering it was just a load of unhelpful thoughts, asking myself questions I would never get the answer to. It didn’t take long before I slipped out of this stage though, realizing how much damage it was doing to my mental health. 

Depression 

I have spent a lot of time over the last couple of weeks being sad — also known as the depression stage. I’ve been crying as I desperately cling to old photographs, afraid that if I delete them then I’ll forget about all the good memories. The sadness creeps into every thought I have, never giving me a break and refusing to let go. It’s harder to find motivation to do the things I used to enjoy, and it’s exhausting. 

Sometimes, it doesn’t feel like the sadness will ever go away. It feels all-encompassing. But I know I am not the first person to ever go through a breakup, and just like how everyone else was able to eventually feel better, I have confidence that I will too.

Acceptance 

Honestly, I’m not entirely sure what acceptance looks like yet. I have fleeting moments of feeling better, like I could start to be okay. But as quickly as that thought comes, it disappears when I remember all the lost memories and the future plans that will never happen. But I’ve taken down the pictures, placed the gifts in a box and stowed them under my bed. I shipped him his sweatshirts, because as they say: out of sight, out of mind. 

Although I know I still have a ways to go with healing, I’m allowing myself to take the time I need to feel better. Sometimes I need to let myself cry, scream in the car or lose myself in a good book to escape to a better place. I’ve been leaning on my friends so they can help me fix the heart they didn’t break. It’s all about going through the motions until one day I go to sleep at night and realize I didn’t even think about him that day.