Damned, and The Deranged

A Bittersweet Beginning

Dallas

CW: Mentions of domestic violence

There’s something so heartening about human impulses once we’ve experienced hurt. After five years, I’ve finally reached the dreaded point where the person I love is breaking up with me. I didn’t expect it to happen, even though I knew it wouldn’t be forever. I still don’t understand why it happened, despite them giving me so many explanations. Maybe it was the fact that we’d be moving to different places and doing other things. Or perhaps they had simply lost feelings after these years and needed to move on. Maybe they wanted to discover themselves as an individual rather than being one half. My mind continuously attempts to rationalise my feelings. But there’s no doubt I’m in denial; hoping that there’s a slight chance they will change their mind and I can wake up from what feels like a bad dream.

The first week after the breakup, I was crushed. Physically, I felt depressed to the point I was nauseous and emotionally, I had never felt so isolated. What would I tell my family who once shared every significant event of the past four years with my partner? Or my friends that see me as one half of the power couple? The person I saw each day as I opened and closed my eyes will no longer be there. They’re no longer there for me to lean on, or merely hold when I’m feeling empty.

Although it still feels like I’m grieving a part of me, I’m okay. I’ve returned to studying, eating normally, and putting myself out there socially after closing myself off for a few weeks. I haven’t told anyone about my situation yet. Partly because I don’t have the emotional capacity and partly because I feel I don’t have any reliable friends.

As the end of the year approaches, I need to start thinking about what I’ll do with myself. What was once a simple plan to move into an apartment with the love of my life has become a confusing, lonely, and scary journey. Despite the chaotic thunderstorm of thoughts spiralling inside my head, human nature refuses to let me fall underwater and drown. I feel pushed to say hello to the people I was too scared to approach earlier in the year. I feel inspired to challenge my body physically and explore the world. I feel excited to

redesign myself physically and mentally. Why didn’t I have the urge to try these things before I was hurt? I don’t know.

Why do we have this internal battle to become the best version of ourselves after we feel pain? Growing up in my ethnic household, each hit from my parents would result in tears, but then a raging desire to achieve greatness, proving that they had underestimated me. When one of my best friends suddenly passed last year, I completely crumbled. But I quickly realised that I wanted to be better to the people I loved and look out for them unconditionally. It could be stubbornness and ego within humans that make us behave in this way. Or maybe it’s just that we seek to prove that we are better than whatever tries to bury us underwater.

At the end of the day, I think there’s a sense of complacency within us that stops us from bettering ourselves. We sit back and enjoy the ride when life works in our favour. We enjoy the little things that make us happy. We have a routine and repeat it until it no longer works one day. Ultimately, that’s how life goes. I’ve entered my twenties well aware of this fact. I know that things don’t always last. I know that people change, and something that once sparked joy, may longer not. I know that there comes a time when we may have to let go of the people and the things we

love. Moving on from heartbreak and pain is like shock therapy. It’s the trigger we sometimes need to grow.

These sudden shifts make us adapt, explore and pursue new versions of ourselves. In this moment, there is a large glistening red reset button enchanting me to press it. Being hurt opens our eyes; it allows us to escape complacency and comfort to become better than we thought possible. I know this piece may feel like a tacky uplifter, but it isn’t supposed to be. I’m finishing this year scared, anxious, and isolated for the first time since high school. I feel like I am at rock bottom, but this is what also excites me. I know things will work out for me eventually. I’m excited to see who I am in ten years. And so, to my partner of five years, thank you for the comfort you’ve provided me and for giving me a chance to become someone new.