It came like an earthquake. Nothing for a very long time. Stillness and calm. Chirping birds and mellow crickets. Warm breezes and soft waves. Glowing sunsets and warm hugs. And then all at once, a sudden jolt, violent and unexpected. Entirely undetectable and overwhelmingly unsettling.
He said he’d been feeling this way deep down for a while, but had only just realised I wasn’t the one for him. Tears rolled down my cheeks as my sweaty thighs stuck to the seat of the stuffy car. He was sorry – I could see it in his eyes – but he also gave off an air of quiet relief.
We hugged goodbye quickly and I drove away in a dizzy fog of disbelief. We were meant to be together forever, so why was this happening? This wasn’t part of the plan.
The first day I sat in still shock, unable to process what had happened and unable to accept that this was the new normal. But by the second day, something had shifted and a small spark started to reignite within me. Less than 48 hours ago my heart had been shattered, so why, in my mourning, did it all suddenly feel almost… good?
It dawned on me that I was the newest resident of The Heartbreak Hotel. But it wasn’t the drab, dated, 2-star Best Western I imagined it to be.
It dawned on me that I was the newest resident of The Heartbreak Hotel. But it wasn’t the drab, dated, 2-star Best Western I imagined it to be. I had pictured a dull room with harsh fluorescent lighting, a stained yellow duvet and the lingering smell of decades of stale cigarettes. But instead, I had somehow stumbled into The Ritz, a 5-star dream complete with a deep marble bath tub, a fluffy duvet and a view of the ocean. I felt better than I had in a long time.
“But how are you really?” friends would mumble stiffly, as they shot me sympathetic looks and quietly dug in their bags for small packets of pity tissues. They expected me to be a broken mess, because everyone knows being dumped is way worse than being the dumper. But for me, it had been exactly what I needed and I was grateful, because I know I never would have been brave enough to pull the plug myself.
It hadn’t been a bad relationship, in fact for the most part it has been a really good relationship. We had our problems, but we were happy and we laughed a lot. But I had come to understand that it was just never quite right and I was grateful he had been brave enough to end it and trust his gut.
“But you’ve been uh dumped… why are you so… upbeat?” They would emphasise the word dumped, as if it were on par with the words genocide or cancer or death. The word lingered on dry mouths like a dirty secret, a crude and shocking revelation that most were too embarrassed to whisper while looking me in the eye.
Popular culture tells us that being dumped is the worst possible thing that could happen to us. Worse than death even – looking at you Bridget Jones.
Popular culture tells us that being dumped is the worst possible thing that could happen to us. Worse than death even – looking at you Bridget Jones. We are taught to protect ourselves from dumping at all costs and if we are the victim of a dumping, it seems only right that we should spend a period of time in deep distress and mourning, never fully recovering to the state of our former selves.
Don’t get me wrong, having somebody tell you they don’t love you anymore hurts like hell. But sometimes being dumped is exactly what we need to propel us into greater things and brighter futures. It can be the kick up the backside we need to follow our dreams, work on ourselves or realise that we need to pay more attention to how we are actually feeling and trust out gut.
Having been through all of this, I’m no longer afraid to admit to people that yes, I was dumped. After all, it was one of the best things that ever happened to me and really, who cares who ended it? The point is that it’s over and I feel better for it. As a culture I think we need to re-evaluate our perception of being dumped and understand that there is no shame in having your heart broken.
Heartbreak is always a lesson and an opportunity, and when we refuse to be embarrassed about the fact that a person chose to leave us, we realise that actually, the view from The Heartbreak Hotel ain’t all bad.
Heartbreak is always a lesson and an opportunity, and when we refuse to be embarrassed about the fact that a person chose to leave us, we realise that actually, the view from The Heartbreak Hotel ain’t all bad. Mimosa, anyone?
