How to pack up your life, end a relationship, start a new job, date again, and not lose your shit in 5 months.

Photo by Gio on Unsplash

Throw everything in boxes.
Don’t linger too long over artifacts you would otherwise get lost in, the photo of your grandparents from 1982, the lost letter to your best friend from college - why did he send it back to you? The faded yellow post-its from your first San Francisco love, Andrew’s plastic toys, the lost keys. 

Let yourself cry but not too much, only once if possible when he has left the house and you are drowning in boxes and a song comes on that isn’t even a sad song but it hits a part of your heart hard and fast like when you knock a funny bone and feel an unexpected pain. Ugly cry for exactly 8 minutes, let your head fall on the desk, ignore the cat confused by your sobs, and then splash cold water on your face and continue packing. 

Hire the movers your friend recommends. Try not to complain too much when they worry you by putting all of your belongings on the street before loading them into the truck as if setting up a garage sale of your life that you didn’t agree to. Call your soon-to-be ex for moral support and hug him when he comes back to the apartment to be there, this one last time, hold him like you are not moving out of each other’s lives that same day.

Take help wherever you can get it. Pay attention to the people who show up. Don’t be disappointed in the people you thought would be there for you but aren’t. Take the help, admit you need it. Tell your friends you are sad. Accept their invitations when they offer to bring you places, to fill up your nights with new things. Thank them for it later when you have a clearer head and realize what they were doing. 

Get used to the silence. Your Grandmother once asked you if you liked being alone, you were way too young to know what she meant, referencing how your Father could never be alone, how he always needed a partner in his life. Do not be your Father. Ask your single friends how they spend so much time alone. Hope that does not offend them. 

Fill up your new apartment with furniture and plants and art as quickly as you can, make it a home. Lie down on the blue velvet couch you bought from Kate and watch the giant TV your brother gave you as a housewarming gift. Let yourself sink into the solitude and feel things. Do not have a meltdown and start crying when the cat does not eat for a week. Do not make that a symbol for something. The cat will be ok and so will you. 

Start your new job and try not to tell everyone you meet you are newly out of a twelve-year relationship, that you have just packed up your entire life, that you live in a new neighborhood with a new zip code, that your legs are still a little wobbly from it all. Smile, make new friends, put your head down and work. You know how to do this. 

When you start dating again do not fall in love with the first man you kiss. You are not in grade school anymore. Have a lot of sex and enjoy it. Enjoy making out again. Believe them when they tell you you are beautiful and sexy, say it to yourself, feel it in your bones. You will want to let your head float above your body, but keep your feet on the ground. Hold on to the ones who seem good but don’t fantasize too long about a future together. Make new friends that might turn into lovers. Let new lovers become friends. 

Go for long walks in the park alone. Then go with friends, then your aunt when she visits. Process the past but don’t let that stop you from living in the moment. Let your heart fall in love. Let it get broken. Vacuum your house every Sunday, work hard, text your ex, thank your friends for being there when you didn’t even know what you needed. Make your own coffee every morning in the pretty green coffee maker that brings you joy. 

Try not to fantasize too much about the future. Write down what you want on a piece of notebook paper with your favorite pen, rip it up, hold the tiny pieces inside your palm, open your new favorite window, in your new favorite corner of your new home, and release those tiny rips of paper, watch them fall to the ground like petals. Close the window.