You lie in bed, unable to move, aching, noticing that the feeling is not gone. You thought that, perhaps if you went to sleep, you would feel better when you woke up. You don’t. Instead, you just feel the same weight that seemed to be crushing you the night before. Your focus is shot, and it’s getting harder and harder to breathe. What the hell happened? At one point, you were fine. Both of your were fine. You were in love, you were happy. In an instant, though, everything changed. Maybe you don’t know what it was, maybe you do, but that spark was dead and, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get it back. You couldn’t get them back. And now, here you are. Alone again, naturally.
There are countless numbers of songs, stories, and poems out there about the agony of a break-up. Most of them are not for us. Sure, we can listen and we can hear their messages of pain and sorrow and we can relate because love is universal, but it’s not exactly the same. When you walk into the only lesbian bar in town and see your ex on the arm of some new girl and have to immediately decide if she’s worth giving up that bar for, it’s different. When your boyfriend leaves you because he can’t handle being honest about you with those he cares about, it’s different. You can reverse the sex in either scenario and it will still make sense. When your boyfriend is scared you’ll leave him for a woman and your girlfriend is scared you’ll leave her for a man, it’s different. Heartache is heartache, but sometimes your story isn’t represented by Bruno Mars or Britney Spears.
I may not be a singer, but let me try to represent now.
When you find yourself alone again, you may feel broken. I don’t mean that the world is darker and your soul bleeds black like your tears (which is true), I mean you literally feel broken. You don’t function in the same way you used to. Your favorite shirt in the world is no longer there because it belonged to your ex and now you feel naked without it. You can’t fall asleep because the other side of the bed is empty and you had gotten used to smelling the shampoo left in her hair as a way to get sleepy. You don’t wake up at the right time because he was the one with the earlier alarm, so now it’s 5:30 AM and you don’t work until 10. You simply aren’t functioning the way you used to. This, is addition to the black soul, makes you feel actually broken. What’s more, you may not feel it possible to fix yourself.
Maybe you can talk to friends about it. This is, of course, assuming that your queer community isn’t tiny and that all your friends aren’t also friends with your ex and have been forced to choose between the two of you. Maybe you can talk to your family about it. That means, naturally, that you can talk to your family about queer things and that you’re out to them, right? Maybe you’re lucky and you have someone out there who understands. Maybe, but it’s also entirely possible that you don’t. You may feel completely alone and frustrated and stuck. You may have just lost one of the only people in the world who understood the circumstances under which you life. You may in fact feel like, without this person, you have nothing left.
The truth is you do still have something. You still have you.
You do not stop being yourself just because you are alone. Not really. You may indeed be broken, but that’s just it: you are broken. Which means you can be fixed. You will be fixed. You will adjust to falling asleep without that smell and waking up closer to the time you have to work. You will find a way to talk to your friends in a way that you can express yourself fully and also not have to hear them talk about your ex. You will find a newer, better, more favorite shirt. You will probably avoid that bar, at least for a little while. You will get to spend a great deal of time with yourself, which will at first sound like a special kind of torture, but will ultimately turn into something lovely and beautiful and you’ll be a better person because of it. And, one day, you will wake up and feel like going out and be able to walk into that bar and not give a damn whether or not your ex is there. You will be yourself again.
The question still remains of what to do when no one understands. Not every place has a great rainbow community. Not everyone has a supportive, progressive family. Do you just hold this in and suffer? Short answer: no. It is 2012. There are people all over, people around the world, people on the internet, who all know how much your break up sucks and can speak to you in a way that Carole King just can’t. Google and Facebook and other sites give you a world of knowledge and advice and resources of where to find both real and virtual communities who would long to speak to you and hold your hand and walk you through this. And if none of those people want to listen, I do. I want to listen and be your friend through this really tough time. Consider me your stranger listener, here when you need me. Be careful, of course, but reach out. Don’t let your pain take you over just because you’re queer. Don’t let it take you over especially because you’re queer.
You will lie in bed, unwilling to move, comfy, noticing that the feeling is not gone. You thought that, perhaps if you went to sleep, you would feel energized when you woke up. You don’t. Instead, you just feel warm and fuzzy and have no desire to leave this warmth from the night before. Your focus is there, and it’s getting harder and harder to start the day. What the hell happened? At one point, you were miserable. You didn’t think you could feel fine. You were heartbroken, you were broken. In an instant, though, everything changed. Maybe you don’t know what it was, maybe you do, but that spark was dead and, no matter how hard it was, you somehow got it back. It somehow just came back. And now, here you are. Alone again, happily.
