To put it simply: breakups are awful.

It is like someone ran you over with a truck – and then reversed the truck and ran you over again. As someone who has experienced the breakup of a multi-year relationship, I feel qualified to offer advice on how to get through heartbreak.

Let me tell you what happened, involving a hot dog, a message from the universe and the Lincoln Memorial. Then I’ll share some words of wisdom.

My story

Let me set the scene for you: it’s two weeks before Valentine’s Day. It’s a Thursday night, and I’m fully under the impression that I’m about to be asked to be my then-boyfriend’s Valentine. I was expecting flowers and chocolates. 

I was not about to be asked to be someone’s Valentine, instead, I was being dumped.

It was awful. It was so brutal that my mom cried because she felt so bad for me. Then my two other friends also cried because of how bad they felt for me. How bad does a breakup have to be to make other people cry?

I woke up on Friday morning. It honestly didn’t feel real – I was in disbelief. I was convinced it was all a bad dream. Surely, I was on a prank show. I was fully ready for a camera crew to turn the corner and a guy with a microphone to yell at me.

I logged on to my email, like a true girlboss does after being dumped, and I saw an email notification: “Congratulations, you have been accepted into our program.”

A month prior, I applied for a study abroad program in Paris for the summer. In part because I need to work on my French, but also in part because I found myself going on Pinterest during lectures and looking at dreamy images of the Seine at sunset.

I had completely forgotten I submitted an application. But now, it felt like the universe was handing me a little token of hope in the form of a warm baguette.

I screamed. 

“It’s a sign from the universe! I have hope!” I yelled to my mom on the phone.

Despite having just endured one of the worst mornings of my life, some weird fate was looking out for me, whispering in my ear: “Things may suck now, but in a few months and you’ll be in Paris eating smelly cheese and delicious pastries.”

That afternoon, I went to work. I put on my dress slacks and a button-down and did my best shaky smile that kind of says, “I’m fine,” but really screams, “I cried while eating my Cheerios this morning.” 

I small-talked with my coworkers, answered some emails and did some marketing tasks. It kept me busy. Shoutout capitalism for the emotional distraction.

That night after work, my boss took me to a basketball game. She had no idea about the breakup, which honestly made things a lot easier. No sad eyes or “how are things holding up?” – just a good basketball game with a cool boss. I had a hot dog, asked her about her children and cheered on OU (and let’s be honest – yelled at the referees).

After the game, I drove straight over to my friend’s house. My best friends came from all across Michigan to spend the weekend with me. When I walked in, weekend duffel bags were scattered across the floor and my favorite snacks were waiting on the desk for me (because I have friends who know me well and my obsession with popcorn). The emotional support council convened, despite us all going to different universities.

We clustered onto my friend’s queen-sized bed, split a bag of popcorn and for the first time since the breakup, I laughed. An ugly, full body laugh with happy tears in my eyes, all thanks to my friend’s personally curated Instagram reels collection specifically made to pull me out of my breakup sadness. 

My friends looked at me with sad eyes, hugged me for a long time and let me vent. We talked about the breakup, and then we didn’t. We talked about everything else – dumb reality TV shows, professors who put in grades too slowly and campus gossip. 

It felt like a hotel getaway, only with better company and cozier blankets. My room back home still had photos on the walls. Being in a new space – even temporarily – felt like a reset. Plus, my friend has a really nice shower. 

I realized I wasn’t even going to be home for Valentine’s weekend – I was off to Washington, D.C.

I showed up at Detroit Metropolitan Airport at 5 a.m. with semi-puffy eyes and a bag of muffins from a local bakery as a peace offering for being the most emotionally unstable member of our travel group.

Why D.C. for Valentine’s weekend? I was there with my political science academic fraternity. Yes, I am technically a frat bro. We were there for some academic stuff – fraternizing and whatnot.

It was almost midnight, and I was running around the National Mall with eight of my friends. Someone pointed out that it was Valentine’s Day, and we only had an hour left of the holiday. 

There I was, on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, feeling strangely okay. I had a minor success: I had distracted myself enough throughout the entire day to forget it was the holiday of love. I spent my Valentine’s Day taking goofy pictures with the monuments, getting lost on the metro and exploring D.C. 

The next few weeks of my life were spent piecing together pieces of my life. What do I do for fun now that I’m single and have all of this free time? Who are my friends? What do I talk about that isn’t about a relationship?

So what does one do post-breakup with an unexpected surplus of free time? Join the university’s recreational pickleball club.

No, seriously, I joined Oakland’s recreational pickleball team. I started playing a few times a week and got really into it.

What started as an emotional distraction became an actual hobby. I made friends who wave to me across courts. I have favorite doubles partners who know I prefer my backhand. I even bought an expensive paddle.

Pickleball was one major thing that got me through my breakup. It gave me a reason to show up – physically and mentally – when everything else felt a little foggy. 

My life slowly started reassembling itself. I made two new close friends, finally finished my honors thesis, went to D.C. (again) and got aggressively into bar trivia. Life moves on – and so did I. 

The whole thing felt like spring cleaning for my soul. With everything in emotional shambles, I saw my life from a completely different perspective. I remembered what it was like to have a life that was entirely mine – having my own schedule in my own little world.

Honestly, it was kind of nice. I didn’t have to send an “I got home safe” text. Night outs were just for me and my friends. I could accept compliments without feeling guilty.

I’ll also be honest; it wasn’t all perfect. I cried to Taylor Swift in my car an embarrassing amount. There are date night spots I can no longer step foot in without risking bawling my eyes out. Breakups leave little emotional landmines everywhere.

When your heart breaks into tiny pieces, you have to reorganize and make room for new things. You fill that void with different things – room for Paris, room for pickleball and eventually room for someone who makes you nervous on a first date in the best way possible.

Despite the heartbreak and dramatic retelling, I remain a hopeless romantic – the kind with a passport and an unrealistic crush on any guy my age at the airport. 

I’m sure my Mr. Perfect is out there somewhere. Until then, I’ll be eating croissants and working on my pickleball serve. 

Lessons learned

My breakup, like most of my romantic life, felt oddly cinematic – half heartbreaking and half excellent material for the campus newspaper. It was a dramatic movie montage with me gazing out a plane window, replacing photos in frames while listening to Carole King and a plot twist that involves Paris. 

Now, don’t get me wrong – I’m not trying to romanticize breakups. They hurt. You feel an actual heartache. But sometimes the only way out of the storm is through it.

Stay busy

First things first, stay busy. Leave the house and don’t stay in your bedroom. Go outside.

The first few days of the breakup are crucial. You should take time to grieve, but keeping a normal and exciting life is important. Make plans. Call your mom. Meet up with friends. Say yes to things. You are busy and booked. Keep your life full of people and things that remind you that there’s so much more to you than your old relationship.

You don’t have to pretend like everything is normal. You can feel sad, but let your life continue. 

Mourn

You also have to mourn and feel everything – don’t bottle everything up. You need to process everything and think everything through. Let yourself cry, eat ice cream and watch “Pride and Prejudice.”

The first week is horrible, and the month after is all a bit sad but manageable. After a month, I finally felt like myself again. Not necessarily the same person, but someone a little bit wiser and with some mascara smudges.

Also, throw everything away. Throw out the old photos, the hand-written cards and the presents. Delete the photos from your camera roll. The more you remove this person, the better. The fewer reminders of this person in your life, the easier the healing.

It’s a rite of passage

One day, when my hypothetical daughter is crying in my arms over the boy who broke her heart, I’ll hold her close and tell her the truth: I’ve been through it. Things will be okay because I survived this. 

I’ve lived through a breakup and I’m able to give advice to my friends about it. It’s made me stronger and emotionally smarter.

I’m someone who’s truly under the impression that you should go through one real heartbreak once in your life. It humbles you and gives you wisdom you can only earn through tears and emotional growth.

You learned something

Okay, don’t roll your eyes at me, but for most relationships you learn something from it. No matter how disastrous, breakups give you a better sense of who you are and what you need.

Mine made me a better communicator. It taught me how to express my emotions. I now know what red flags to run from, and what green flags to celebrate. 

Each relationship sharpens your focus. Your camera lens gets cleaner. Eventually, what you want, and who that person is, comes into view.