I used to read less than a book a year before my breakup

Not losing myself in a romance allowed me to read 16 books in 2 months, plus listen to countless hours of podcasts and educational videos.

To be fair, discovering the two times the speed option on my Audible app was a key advantage for that literary gluttony. As I’m assessing where I stand after being single a little over two months, I’m astounded at the number of activities that are deeply important to me I’ve managed to tackle in the spent of eight weeks.

Without a doubt, compulsively reading books was a way to cope with my sadness after my breakup. I could have turned to many other coping mechanisms. Hence, I’m very proud to have rechanneled my negative feelings into something life-changing that built more resilience and confidence in myself instead of falling into self-petty and rebound dating. The pandemic delivered its second blessing in disguise: it forced me to stay home and process my feelings head-on. I’ve lost the man I loved the most in my life and kept myself sane, healthy and calm. Self-help books have superpowers!

I also reconnected with art and let my pens and brushes freely move on the paper without restriction. A form of mediation has dramatically improved my sleep quality as I use it to calm down before bed. Another gain from having liberated time, energy and mental space is that I can focus on activities I had left behind when entering the job market in my twenties. Other painful events had me walk away from fine arts though I will keep that story for a later post. Tonight, I want to stay present to the positive turn my life has taken since my breakup.

I may have started those healthy habits to escape my sorrow at first, but now, I wouldn’t trade this wellbeing for romance again. Unless someone can dramatically improve my quality of life and support me in my dreams, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to give anyone as much of myself to my detriment. Nobody ever requested of me those sacrifices in any relationships and especially not my most recent ex. He always said that I should stand on my own two feet and attend to what matters most to me first. It was my own definition of romantic love that led me to ignore my personal needs, and I’m glad I’ve grown to understand that the oxygen mask goes on me first. Love is not self-sacrifice.

Today, it would have been our 21-months anniversary. I miss him everyday, but I’ve chosen to carry on even if the pain remains.