Lets not beat around the bush here. We’ve all seen it in Hollywood movies, and we’ve all read about it in novels: The spurned/dumped/rejected female protagonists. And from these we’re fed templates of how it’s supposed to feel, how we’re supposed to react, and what we’re supposed to experience if it happens to us.


A breakup is not
a single tear glistening on a delicate eyelash,
which then gently rolls down your cheek.
It’s not a pain that can be soothed away,
by a hot bath,
and a good nights sleep
It’s nothing chocolate can cure
It’s not gentle or soft
It’s not logical or rational
It’s not plenty more fish in the sea,
and getting back on the horse
It’s not having a night on the piss,
and waking up the next day all smiles again.
It’s not consistent or linear
It’s not about being ‘brave’ or ‘strong’
It’s not pretty, or ladylike
And it’s not predictable,
or controlled.

It’s great, big, gulping, gut wrenching, body wracking, sobs,
that go on and on and feel they’re never going to stop.
Swollen eyes.
It’s the deep pain of a sharp knife,
with spurs,
sliding into your heart
Twisting and turning as it pushes its way further and further in.
It’s body shock: going cold, breaking into sweats, trembling, going numb.
It’s mind shock: disbelief, mind racing, thoughts jumbled, mind stopping.
It’s insomnia even when you’ve had sleeping tablets
It’s not being able to swallow food,
even though you know you must eat
It’s losing several kilos in a matter of days,
so you start looking like a skeletal supermodel.
It’s self-recrimination.
It’s about questioning everything,
to do with you and them, the relationship,
and sometimes, the universe.
It’s a pendulum swinging from hollowness,
to swollen, excruciating, pain;
Feeling you’re going to be fine one minute,
then breaking down the next.
It’s letting it all out
It’s about honoring and validating feelings.
Allowing grief, in whatever form it takes
It’s ugly
It’s raw
It’s brutal
It’s emotion

– Judi Reed, 2012