5 Steps To Overcoming Heartbreak

It’s hard to write about heartbreak when you are actively heartbroken. You know, like watching the waiter march to your table with a bowl of piping hot oatmeal when you’re hung over.With that said it’s taken me almost all of 2018 to put together how to be more put together when all you want to do is pour some accelerator and light the match.

Aw yes, that balance between knowing you’re a human being with feelings and wishing you just fucking weren’t for five minutes (shout out to my dog who I constantly call a shit-head and she knows none the wiser)

It’s not easy, but it’s doable…

Below, I give you: the five steps I’ve personally taken to help me overcome that overwhelming feeling that someone has essentially rung you out to dry; but like…in the rain

1. First of all, why can’t I ever have a step one without thinking about who’s responsible for cutting the hole in the box?

1B. Know what hurts.

Ignorance isn’t bliss; it’s just ignorance.

It’s funny, cause when I was a kid and I’d try to express my feelings to my father in a snot-filled-traumatic-mumble-tantrum, he used to verbally face palm me with the same question every time: “uhhhhh, your what hurts?” Great question, I HAVE NO CLUE. It was such a vague and blanketed response to my belligerency that it actually made me stop and try to figure out who my real father was what was causing my pain so that I was more equipped to not only explain it, but ease it. Science has proven that both heartache and grief are both legitimate forms of measurable physical pain. Which means painkillers as simple as Aspirin are actually equally recommended for the heart as they are the head. For the record, I mentioned over the counter aspirin, so don’t go buck wild on prescription opioids cause Tommy from Tinder ghosted you after he asked you to be his arm candy at this years company Christmas party. Or do. Natural selection.

2. Be present.

I have a habit of extremes. The power of living (or not living) in the here and now is no exemption. I am either extremely engulfed in a moment to the point of full acceptance OR, I fly so far off the handle about future anxieties that it’s almost like you are all invited to the opening of my new theatric production of “I Am Nothing Without Him”. Solid soundtrack. The cast is a little iffy. I used to think that the first step was just admitting it, right?

Wrong, the first step is taking a deep breath and remembering that if the future seems like it’s already overwhelmingly hard, how’s right now going for you? I imagine if you aren’t starting by being really good at today, there’s no hope for tomorrow. You’re cheating on today’s happiness with tomorrow’s what if’s and frankly everyone loses. Except the guy who broke your heart and sent you into this uncomfortable spiral. He’s winning all the chips.

3. Distract.

If we’re all being honest with ourselves, there’s no easier way to get over heart ache than with a distraction. We have a scientifically studied part of the brain called the reward system that often is directly linked to the biological effects of rejection whilst being in love. When that reward system is unmanaged, it’s addictive patterns appreciate a diversion from pain and explore a more sought after feeling of pleasure.I imagine there will be backlash with how I achieve this step, and to that I say…get a hobby. Even if his name is Jared. As much as I’d like to suggest picking up a a new interest in a less taboo subject like hot yoga to “decompress and center yourself”, investing time into getting to know someone new has always effectively kept me from running back to the fire and placing my hand directly in it. Can’t say the same for the Child’s Pose.Maybe that’s a reflection of how much I see the good in people, even the bad ones. But if it takes me diving into a whole new batch of potential-bullshit just so I don’t skip back to confirmed-bullshit…let us all be stoked to be dealt another hand.

4. Be reflective, not reactive.

For the longest time, whenever I got ghosted (I say ghosted because dumped would mean the man who stopped talking to me would have to tell me why he stopped talking to me, and frankly I’m 0/456) I IMMEDIATELY rack my brain for what I could have possibly done wrong. And then I need to know what exactly I did/said, how it made all parties feel, what I could have done differently, AND how I fix not only it but world hunger, the California water shortage, the war on drugs…EVERYTHING. I NEED TO FIX EVERYTHING, IMMEDIATELY. Basically, I react so hard I don’t even have the energy to reflect. And when I found this out about myself, I made it one of the steps in not only overcoming heartbreak, but honestly eliminating the length of time before you’re at peace with the situation.

Reactions are quick, take less thought, and are…come to think of it synonymous with defining most of my past relationships. However, reflections are how I further more chose to handle any future heartache. We don’t need to know why someone chooses not to like love tolerate us. All we need is to handle rejection with grace and selflessness which will in turn outline our character and keep us on a path to who and what we deserve.

5. Surround Yourself With Love

Endorphins are the gateway drug guys. You feel love one time and it’s hard to want to be in a state of anything less. Heartache is, in my opinion, the epitome of pain because it’s not just superficial. It’s mental AND it’s physical. Your legs are weak, your brain is foggy, and your eyes are swollen from hours of both of those things colliding, making it hard to want to do anything more than replay what you’ve lost and sulk about how hard it might be to regain.

This is a piggyback on distractions, but it deserves its own step. There are people who love and adore you who have been placed on life’s back burner while you danced to the beat of falling for another sucker. They rooted for you knowing this day might come. So keep them close enough to remember what it’s like to be unconditionally supported, and bring them closer when your heart isn’t sure what that feels like anymore. There are probably a plethora of additional steps that we as individuals practice on a heartbreak to heartbreak basis, but these five above really drill home the attempt at a quick turn around for me personally. This is coming from the girl who is just happy to be alive enough to feel, even the bad shit.

The Sane Part of Insanity

The Sane Part of Insanity

Am I a fully licensed and accredited therapist now? BECAUSE MY DATING RECORD WOULD SHOW THAT I’VE PUT IN THE HOURS. Totally google-able, totally diagnosable.

I know what I’m doing here. Send my certificate in the mail.

The irony is, Im always the one who winds up being called ‘crazy’. Or at least being made to feel that way. Which, arguably, is way worse. Like, just call me crazy so I can write you off as a prick. Don’t turn this around and send me screen shots of my own text messages. I KNOW THAT I SENT YOU BOTH A HEART AND A KNIFE EMOJI IN SUCCESSION, being confused doesn’t make me unloveable, Chad.

So, get this….turns out, doctors don’t actually officially diagnose people as sociopaths vs psychopaths, but like…they exist. I date them. What the fuck are doctors good for anymore anyway? Pushing the opioid epidemic? Falsely representing the male population with fake diagnosis’ like: “hormonal imbalances”? No. Homeboy has no conscience, I checked for myself.

Literally the only difference between a sociopath and a psychopath is the existence of said conscience and honestly, I think it’s safe to say that this generation is lacking hard in the realm of defining right from wrong.

Right: call her when you say you’ll call

Wrong: literally any other excuse your ass can think up to get his cake and eat it too.

I’ve had harder lessons in how to brush my hair as a kid. Side note: rat’s nest Taryn came out strong.

In my honest opinion there shouldn’t be such an existential variable when it comes to the ability to consider another human beings’ feelings and act appropriately and accordingly. Everyone deserves empathy and frankly those same people also deserve the tools they need to understand a shift in behavior by anybody they’ve invested any [lengthy] amount of time into. ***This is where I should be defining “lengthy” for the crowd. Frankly my “lengthy” is always different than his “lengthy”. Cause this is where men go hard on their genitalia perimeters and dial it back for “time spent telling her that I loved her”.

If you say you owe a stranger nothing, you’re wrong. Strangers are the people who we should be giving just a little more respect to….because it’s not expected and kindness that is least expected is probably the only way out of this generational defect we’ve built around our emotional avoidance in the last two decades; or however long I’ve been alive and trying to co-exist with males.

I always told myself I wouldn’t settle. Not for anything less than what I deserved. All I truly know is….we all deserve not-a-sociopath, AT THE VERY LEAST. Boy did my standards get low…

Singled Out

Singled Out

Being romantically un-involved used to be an insecurity of mine. One that was carried around with me like a mole I refused to get checked. That was until, I went three plus years having the daunting misfortune of being single without any answers as to why it was so. At some point you just have to come to terms with your fate. Like being significantly tall with a love for heels or tone deaf amidst a family of singers. Most of the time I pretend it’s poor timing or bad luck, but I’m not so naive to believe i’m just not everyone’s cup of tea.

Right around year two I found myself noticing potential reasons, and verbally proclaiming “Yup, this is why I’m single” out loud. The list grew and frankly, if society can’t cope with my quirkiness, fuck it, I hope I never have to commit to being anybody other than me. Not even for frequent sex or someone to help paddle the boat back to shore.

My friends try to make me feel better by throwing Hail Mary’s like: “God’s just not done writing your love story yet”. That’s cute, but I just told potential suitor #1 that I’ve been known to make out with my dog longer than three seconds. Whoops. 


There are handfuls of explanations as to why I’m not married; most of them being because I’m really good at being single, and why screw up a good thing? Do something long enough, and we’re all pro’s. But below are what I think are some of the main causes in no particular order:

  • I’m temperature sensitive- meaning, I can barely think about anything else but being comfortable when it’s too hot or too cold. Some guys find that the amount of times I get up and down to turn on and off the air conditioner is in direct correlation with how indecisive I can be about literally everything else that I have minimal control over. Climate change is only making me more single. Personally, I think I look really cute in your sweatshirt AND also, absolutely nothing. I’ll inevitably tire myself out complaining about the weather, so in my defense…you’re welcome.
  • I’m a grammar Nazi- in light of the recent Charlottesville attacks, I realize that this verbiage may be too soon. But, that leads me to another reason why I’m probably single and that is that I forget the importance of filters. Also, I refuse to date a moron so when your dating profile is riddled with illiteracy I’m privy to assume that you’d turn me off quicker than a clap on lamp. People fancy being dumb, look who we elected president. Men these days don’t want their love letters spell checked, and I get that. But I’d rather be alone than receiving ‘cumming home to ur fine ass 2nite’. #killme
  • I realize dating is a game, and I’m done playing it- three years ago I hosted a personal walk off. I came to terms with the fact that there was nothing in the relationship I was in that would keep me interested in the sport forever. I got back into it; a couple innings here and there. Struck out hard. Not because I was afraid to swing, but because there were hecklers in the stands distracting me from a good play. And also because nobody plays fair. We live in a world where the only way out is cheating. Remember when we were kids? If we caught anybody peeking during heads up seven up, they were dead to us. Frankly, that’s how I roll out my rules as an adult.
  • I’m transparent- for a very long time, I refused to acknowledge that society would view this as a negative. But, I write a blog about bullshit that infuriates me, about the kind of love that excites me, and about reflective moments that I feel everyone can relate to. It’s a blessing and a curse and I see it from more points of view than most people think, but for every man it frightens it allows me a tiny bit of relief, and for that reason alone, I’d rather be single than be quiet. I remember a time when men would complain about their women not telling them how they feel, and making them “guess”. Give me three to five business days and you will have a full article on why I didn’t appreciate you eating the last yogurt… #noteveryonescupofyoplait
  • I’m compulsive- Sounds thrilling, right? I am certain there’s a guy out there for me, but if we are talking majority…I see why most men would find my bucket list overwhelming. I just want to make it to every country before the end of the weekend. Is that too much to ask? Not to be confused with spontaneity, because I usually think these things through way in advance, it’s just that once I set my mind to something I let it control me almost immediately. LAY OFF ME I’M STARVING.
  • I can’t dance- no, like I can’t even do the choreographed songs that come on at the bar. At all. Sweet Caroline? Too many bum-bum-bums…every time. I have less swag than a box of cracker jacks. My generation speaks in movement and I can barely fake-reel-in my dance floor fish without tripping over both left feet. I presume guys are more attracted to the stripper in another life type women. You win this round, twerk-angel.
  • I’m too busy sleeping- last, but certainly not least. If I could date a nap, I would. There is literally nothing more exciting to me than being unconscious from the world for 6-10 hours a day. And unless we meet in my dreams, I doubt we could make this work. I work long hours, on my feet all day and there’s just not enough minutes in a work day to completely be engulfed in a relationship sometimes. Whoever finds themselves changing my relationship status is going to be a professional pajama wearer, thank you 30’s!

I always believe that there’s no reason to be in a relationship until you meet someone who makes your life better than it is when you’re not in one. When I put it that way, it sounds like quite the feat. But, I’m not at a total loss just yet. There’s always hope that someone is going to be a genius wordsmith with dashing good looks, minimal interest in dancing and zero fear. Did I mention ‘smells like bacon’? Hey, a girl can dream…

Valen-time and time again

Valen-time and time again
I’ve dated myself ever since I became cognitive enough to experience the feeling of self-inflicted satisfaction. For some, it was banging their privates into anything that would involuntarily push back. For me, it was sending myself love notes before anybody else could.

Dear me,

There’s a whole lot of romance in my absolute devotion to you. Let me be frank, your love is all I need. 

I remember our first date like it was yesterday, because it was. It was yesterday, and the day before; and the day before that day before. It’s been every day. Firsts, lasts, almost’s and in-between’s. You’ve been my saving grace. My easy escape. My god, with you…I am safe. 

I love the way you break up with anything that doesn’t serve your existence. And the way you look at me in the mirror before work, rooting us on for a day of excellence. There’s nobody else in this world that I’d rather spend every minute with. Minutes aren’t even minutes when we’re alone. They’re hours of days that we’ve carved our dreams into; together.

I am enchanted by your stubbornness, for it’s the only reason we’ve made it here today. I hope you don’t chase a single minute blinded by other’s manipulation. Your intuition is the only truth you cannot see. Truth should always come before acceptance. See that through and our love will be eternal.

Not a day passes when I don’t think of you. About your intricacies and your flaws. And the way you’re not afraid to share any of them with the world. Each one of them makes me love you more, not less. They are your poetic and humble handbook to creating the most love-able version of yourself.

Keep learning. Keep progressing. Keep unfolding. You’re beautiful, even in the darkness.

                                                                                            Yours Truly,

                                                                                                           Taryn

Round 3. *Ding*

Round 3. *Ding*

“So, what you’re saying is, this relationship you’re working on is the definition of insanity?” 

By definition, my relationship with him is a lot of things. Its intense. It’s insecure. It’s perilous. But what it’s grown into; from before, is far more important than what defines the path we took to get here. 

Ok, fine. By definition, maybe I’m a little crazy. But by definition, I’m also unapologetically in love. In terms of chemistry, for me love isn’t all of the feels that can be mistaken for lust. Love is risky. And those who take the most risks are often thought to be farthest from sane. Call me the Evel Knievel of relationships and move along…

Upon arrival home, I sat at a bar with my best friend, appetizer in cue. The air was cold, but my heart was warm. I was curious about how others viewed my triple attempt at dating the same man within five years and three states. Surprisingly, she didn’t have the same sour response as the stranger who pegged me as insane prior. She reminded me of her rocky on-again-off-again relationship of five years and how it didn’t matter how many times she felt hate in her heart, it was never enough to give up. That this was what defined love; the risk of being hurt and being able to overcome those challenges. We’re all reckless. Doesn’t matter if it’s round one, two or twenty four

I, like most, often fall victim to believing that relationships portrayed on social media are “perfect”. That nobody has bad days, or bad years, certainly never bad lives. [Holy definition of insanity batman] Everybody’s pretty bad at love, if even for a moment. If being bad at something stopped me from trying it ever again, Id be a pretty sorry excuse for a human being. 

I’m sure you’re wondering why not leave my ex in the past, you know, where Ive left him before, and where he’s also left me. Frankly, I don’t need to explain why I’m going back for more, but I do know that a substantial amount of time has passed to lead me to believe that resolutions have transpired and life has handed me an opportunity far more pertinent to his and I’s happiness than ever before. Timing can be a real bitch (see blog 1-75) 

If you don’t think it’s possible to fall in love with something more than once, travel more. I went to the Grand Canyon when I was young. I sat in the car and complained about how tired my feet were. And then I drudgingly walked to the edge and felt my stomach turn. I knew then that I wanted to be on the edge of things that were completely out of my control on grand scales, with good people. And when I went back ten years later as an adult, it strummed my heart strings with the same frequency as its premier. I wanted a thousand encores. 

With him, I always want more. Encores on encores. And when it ends, if it ends; hell EVERY TIME it ended….I never stopped searching for us; for our sequel; our trilogy, praying we won’t need a saga. With every fear I have of failure, comes hope for something bigger and better than anything I was ever offered in the past. So, call me crazy. Call me whatever you want. Just don’t call me on a Friday after six cause, well,  I’m dating my ex, for the third time…and I’m not afraid to say it. 

Guest Blog: Not an Opener

Guest Blog: Not an Opener
  • By Ryan Carr 

Good morning cla-

To Whom It May Concer-

My fellow Americ-

Hi, how are y-

Whatever, I’m not an opener.

 

For the life of me, I cannot start any sort of conversation with an unmarried woman. Ever. When I do try my hand at it, I usually end up coming off like an asshole because the only people that get my sarcastic sense of humor are the ones that have known me forever. I have so much experience with new people thinking I’m a dirtbag, that when I find a woman attractive I tend to over compensate in the other direction. I once thanked a cute sales associate for her help; surprisingly, she didn’t ask me for my number. My sister calls this “007 Flirting”. This is so much of a thing that she even made me business cards that say, “Hi, I’m Ryan Carr and this is me flirting with you.”  

 

Not being an opener kind of rules out online dating, bars, and any other social setting where I don’t have someone to vouch for me. If my sense of humor isn’t getting me in trouble, my interests are. In a conversation on Tinder, I asked a match what her favorite pair of shoes were. On review of this conversation’s abrupt end, I realized how creepy that question was…I just really like shoes.

   

My friends aren’t exactly the best matchmakers either; actually they’re horrible at it. Most of us have known each other for a decade or more, so they all knew me when I was in my early 20’s doing the immature things that guys in that age range do. Knowing me for that period of time has made it difficult to see that since then I’ve learned to respect and value women, and I’ve grown up and become more interested in serious, meaningful relationships. So you can imagine, I’m not the first guy that comes to mind when they are looking for eligible suitors for their female friends.

 
Essentially left to my own devices, I’m an indefinite bachelor, unable to progress past introductions with any prospects due to this one fatal personality flaw.

 

But just incase she’s out there..

 

I’d like to find a woman who is into some of the same things that I am like Star Wars, my family and Xbox (yes, specifically Xbox because being with someone who’s into playstation would be like having the same argument every day with someone who thinks they are always right when in fact, they are not.) Someone that finds it funny when I call something the wrong name purposefully, speaks Pig Latin fluently and isn’t offended by the occasional unconcealed burp. A significant other who enjoys the finer things in life, like my tattoos and obscure movie references. Someone who shows affection the same way I do and curses recreationally. So really, I want to date myself… I just don’t know how to do that.

  
 

So, if this is you, consider this my opener.

 

Lo-

Yours tru-

Sincer-

Cordia-

-Ryan Carr

 

 

P.S. Yeah, not a closer either.