What should I do to get over a relationship?

And I did the best thing I could do for myself. I seeked out professional help. If I hadnt been heartbroken, I wouldn’t have been pushed to seek therapy and find a therapist actually suited to my needs.

I am lovable. I am lovable. I am lovable.

And days will pass by, and before you know it, you are singing in the shower again.

Is it very wrong to want to spend some time with husband after continuous work for 5 days in a weekend because my husband thinks if we go out every weekend what night my parents and other family members think?

And one day, when someone says something really funny, you burst into laughter with happy tears streaming down your eyes.

That every act of resilence makes your belief in yourself stronger. That all the kindness you shower on yourself, and all the compassion you fill yourself with, makes your heart bloom again.

You are way stronger and way more resilient that you can ever imagine. Your mere existence is proof that you are going to make it out alive. Every single time. You are going to be okay. Believe in that will you?

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Push my body out of the room, drag myself down the road next to the beach, even as flashbacks of the relationship plagued me, even though panic attacks would hit me when I least expected it.

And here’s the thing. Whether its a broken heart, or losing a loved one, you always remember your first’s as you heal from the grief.

The world is ending, the world is ending, the world is ending.

Why do Trump supporters believe Trump should deport the immigrants? These people you call "illegal immigrants" have lived here for many years, they have houses, jobs, how can you think they will just go back to their country, where they have nothing?

And you replace resentment and anger with joy and fill your shattered heart with gratitude.

Caught in a cycle of self loathing, going brutal on myself because thats what lack of self love does to you, I simply felt I cannot go on.

As you watch everyone giggle away, you realise that this is probably the first time in a long time, when you havent thought of them at all. That you havent felt this happy in ages, something that you presumed you will never feel anymore.

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I would lay on the stone cold kitchen floor, my face against the granite and let tears roll down. I would struggle to get out of bed. I would skip meals, and this sinking, gnawing feeling in my heart was a constant companion following me everywhere I went.

I crawled, I trudged, I swayed from side to side but I held on. If I needed sleep, I slept for hours. If I needed crying, I didnt hold myself from crying. I allowed myself to be as sad as I wanted to be, validating my emotions.

And yet in the middle of the night, I would wake up with a spasm of pain, and cry into the silent darkness.

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The first few days after a relationship or a friendship ended, were the hardest.

There may or may not be a perfect version of you.

Big, magnificent, pumped up I WANT YOU IN MY LIFE kind of love. There is absolutely no question of love not being there in your life.

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My wonderful queer community, my childhood friends, and even that colleague that I barely talked to, quietly sliding in a box of palak paneer, at lunch time, which he specially asked his mother to cook for me.

There will be love.

The first realisation that the only way you can go on, is by doing the things that you do, again and again and again. That you do not wait for things to get better, but you make it better.

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I realised the pain I feel, and the debilitating experience I am going through is not just in my head. Its real and its holding me back from leading a fully functional life. And so instead of languishing in shame, that I am a burden on everyone for merely existing, I told myself that I deserve help.

I felt because I am human. I felt because I cared.

The world is ending Pallavi.

How do you know when your skirt is too short?

By doing just one small thing a day.

It can be the romantic kind where someone spreads their arms like shahrukh khan and sings for you, it can be the quiet kind where your friend listens to you sobbing on the phone, it can be the crazy kind where your room mate swings you around and forces you to dance as your favourite song blares on in the background. And it can be the “feeling everything” kind, when your sister hugs you tight and refuses to let go.

So when a friend asked me why cant you just move on, I didnt defend my stance. I did not act cool. I did not pretend to be strong. I decided to allow myself to feel the full impact of the emotions I felt.

What are the bitter truths of life one should know?

I had the extreme luck to be surrounded by people who just overloaded me with love at a point where I just didnt feel lovable anymore.

Thats all I could think of, with my droopy eyelids heavy on anxiolytics.

There will be love, when you open your heart to it.

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And that I would take my own sweet time to recover because I do not care about putting on a “look at me I dont give a shit, look at me how quickly I can go from loving to not caring” performance for anyone.

I will never get over this. I shall never be loved again.

Except it didnt. The world didnt end.

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What exists is this version of you, vulnerable, raw, honest and kind. You are exactly who you are meant to be.

The first run. The first hike. The first learning how to pump the cycle. The first solo trip. The first snowfall of the season. The first of doing everything that you felt you couldn’t do without them.

I forced myself to shower, I forced myself to eat. I forced myself to show up at work even though I would take a half day and come back.

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What is perfection anyway? Not feeling, not being flawed, not getting affected, not being sensitive? Thats not human, thats a mannequin on waltair street.

I can do this. I can do this because look at me, I have been at it, every single day.

And then I set down to do the actual work.

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I was hurt. I was sad. I was heartbroken. I felt I had done something terrible to deserve feeling like this. I felt unloved. I felt small and trivial and disrespected.

The first time you got out of your depressive spell and gave a great seminar. The first patient that came up to you smiling, telling you that they feel so much better, thus ending your days of hibernation.

I am still living. I am able to show up at work. I am able to sleep. People are kind to me.

Why, after being called "Libraries," for centuries, are these hallowed college institutions being renamed: "Learning Centers," and "Resource Centers," etc? What's wrong with the time-honored and venerable name: "Library"? What is to be gained?

And I gave myself permission to feel all of that, and to discard any shame attached to feeling too much.

I stuck chart papers all over the room, and marked each day and made endless to do lists, most of which I couldnt finish. And yet I tried. Day after day.