The grisly details are not worth sharing. It's enough to say that it was unexpected and I was left heartbroken. And I still am, in some ways.
I've avoided writing about it directly here because, for a while, the breakup was too painful to think about, let alone write about. It was as if there was a part of me that didn't want to acknowledge that it was over - not because I wanted to pretend I still had a boyfriend, but it was almost as if ... well, if I didn't write about it here, I could just focus on life as Me, Moving Forward.
Not to mention the fact that I felt as though I was spending enough time on Twitter (and in my personal journal, and on my therapist's couch, and into the ears of my friends and family, and the occasional coworker) going over what had happened to me. I gained a great deal of inspiration from fellow blogger Pure Gold Lady -- she's an amazing woman who writes beautifully and candidly about her life, moving forward, after a painful breakup.
But now, enough time has passed that I don't constantly ache. I don't feel like an open wound. I'm not having panic attacks at the idea of leaving my apartment. I'm slowly but surely, moving forward in my life. This has been a long process - and one that is not quite complete - that has included drowning myself in work, getting a body piercing, reading a lot, letting myself stay at home and cry once in a while, and constantly reminding myself that I'm doing okay.
And... I'm doing okay.