I just finished my first intense workout since the breakup. There are moments when I’m floored that any time has passed at all. Then there was that workout where it feels as if I’m finding my heartbeat again. I’m sweaty and gross, and I’m going to pop into the shower next. But I really just wanted to take a second to say, we all move through hard stuff in our own time. There is a bit of light at the end of those dark tunnels. I can attest to that much.

I received a phone call today from someone very dear to me who was incredibly down on herself. She was thinking in extremes right then; she was falling from a metaphorical cliff. She hadn’t hit rock bottom yet, but she was looking really hard for it. Inviting it in. Her story is not mine to share, but it made me think a lot about my own situation.

Two months ago, the man I love left my life. I think in a lot of ways, he doesn’t know how to love himself, and the idea of letting someone else love him is too much to process. Maybe I’m incredibly conceded, and he just didn’t love me. But I don’t think so. These are not my choices, though. If I had it my way, he’d have met my family and I his, something he was always avoiding. If I had my way, he’d be at my apartment tonight, holding my hand, snuggling, as we watched a movie after dinner. If I had my way, he would have never left at all. Unfortunately, in life, we don’t always get what we want. We have to let go of some dreams and move on. Or we get trapped by them, stuck in the quicksand named sadness.

A little over a week ago, I found out that while my bosses love me, there’s no funding to keep my position. They hope for this to change in the coming months, to invite me back in a permanent capacity. Unfortunately, that’s not right now. Had I got this news seven weeks ago, I would have thought my life was ending. Instead, I went through something far worse, that left me crippled for several days. Now, in comparison, finding a new job feels like something I’ve done before, and I’ll figure it out again. It’s just one more thing to add to the 2020 shit show.

When I spoke to this woman earlier, I realized I’m no longer falling off that same proverbial cliff. I landed at some point. I picked myself up, and I started walking forward again—small steps at first. Often several forward only to slip a little ways backward again. But steps none the less. I might not like it, but I’m healing, and I spend every day trying to be the best version of myself possible. I’m moving on.

Life is hard. It often sucks dirty hairy monkey balls. The kind you won’t touch with a ten-foot pole. But I know it will get better. I know that life will move on, and one day, this will all be a distant memory because that’s how pain works. We all experience it, and we all move through it. Some of us don’t let it hold us back from getting up and loving again. Some of us are crippled far longer then we could have ever anticipated. Each of us is moving at our own speed. Never two quite the same.

I know what I want out of life. I know the kind of partner I want and I know that I’m worthy of it. What I had wasn’t it. No matter how much I thought I wanted it. The universe works for our best interests. I’m not going to fight this. I’m moving on. I look forward to the day when I no longer dwell on what was. When I can write without wiping tears. When I can see clearly what can be.

One step at a time.
One work out.
One essay written.
One tarot deck completed.
One foot in front of the other.