Anatomy of a Heartbreak

Is this real? Is this happening? Oh god. It is.

Spiraling down into darkness, melting into despair, dissolving into the fetal position. Breathing. Every breath hurts—like a hot knife stabbing the lungs. Tears don’t come. Not yet. A layer of shock covers, protecting, but not for long.

Reality breaks the numbness. No more touching. No more kissing. No more tender words. No more love. What was is simply no more. And then, on a random intake of breath, the pain explodes. The grief comes rushing out in a fit of racking sobs that twist the gut into a thousand knots. They come in waves until they can come no more. The body is whipped, drained, spent. Restless sleep engulfs. But it doesn’t last. Upon waking it all comes rushing back. The cycle continues. The agony—both metal and physical—a hair’s breadth from unbearable.

A week, nineteen days, three months or more pass. Finally, a good day allows the sun to break though and warm the soul before it plunges back into the depths of despair. Then two good days grant respite. And the darkness invades again. The pattern continues for who knows how long, until the realization dawns: despair days haven’t visited for a week and a half. Strangely the heart crunches at this, grieving the grief of a great love.

Ever so slowly time, the great healer, does its work and thoughts of the cherished one no longer wield that angry knife that pierces the lungs. Instead a calm sadness lingers that will forever pay homage to the death of a great love.

39 thoughts on “Anatomy of a Heartbreak

  1. Beautiful.
    A very tender exposition of a very harsh time.
    I hope the pain fades soon.
    Friends do help the stagger from one grey day to the next.
    Even if the help is pitiful compared to the pain.

  2. Ever so painful, infact a phase of our life would have always revolved around that particular soul who only seems like a stranger now… And no more… The sorrow would be deep rooted and ever so fatal… And that seems to work at the end is just ‘to move on’…..
    Well written… Cheers… :) :) :)

  3. That hurt.

    Bisous,
    Dawn

    PS: I am not so sure that time heals all wounds. (gangrene?) I guess we carry on and write and breath. Thank you for bearing your soul My Noodle. Every time I do, I feel mildly sick afterward. I hope you don’t because you are a beautiful friend out there somewhere.

    • I agree… I don’t think those type of wounds close up completely. But in my case they calm. I was bit by a large dog as a kid and it ripped out the nerves along with flesh in that spot. I still can’t bear to be touched there, but I don’t think about it on a daily basis. I believe that’s what time does for our heart wounds.

      • I liked the comparison..it’s really accurate. Our scars are also parts of who we are in the present, which I guess is exactly who we ought to be.

        Bisous,
        Dawn

  4. There was no vomiting. “The grief comes rushing out in a fit of racking sobs that twist the gut into a thousand knots.” This ends in vomiting. The way you try to purge excess weight after a meal you enjoyed too much and suddenly realize it will make you fat. I kinda hate myself for saying that. But it’s true.

  5. Pingback: I fucked up: A follow up « A Dissolute Life Means…

  6. Pingback: My Silent Anniversary | Creative Noodling

  7. I really didn’t want to remember. But thank you none the less. “But everything exposed by the light becomes visible–and everything that is illuminated becomes a light.”

Talk to me. Please.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s