Being in relationship, being in community with peers who support us and mentors who challenge, is critical to a transformative feminist relationship to self and the world. One of those primary relationships is, of course, a romantic partner. In my (usually) blissful world with Adonis, I normally hurdle things like dishes, your-turn-to-scrub-the-loos, I can’t stand hanging out with Matt again kinds of problems. It’s not that I’ve forgotten the acute and crippling paralysis of the break-up bug. I just haven’t visited that particular kind of depression in several years.
Then, last night, one of my dear friends had her heart broken and thus commenced those old talkings between friends of heartbreak. “It” began: the analysis, the reliving, the questions, self-doubt, the RAGE, and the necessity to repeat questions at 3am to make sure it was fully covered, twice. And don’t forget betrayal, facade, and throw the word coward in there about three times, too.
Gender is always a fascinating topic in the traumatic world of post break-up. As my weepy friend sat in her cold, dark apartment until the wee morning hours, I did the best I could but felt myself falling short of being that empathetic person who can GO there (“there” being the daaaaaarrrrark side) in the crashing tsunamic waves of misery.
I need to be a good friend and patch her up with good ideas of self-care and healing. And so I ask, dear readers, for all your pearls of wisdom, for feedback on this famous question: