So — I got dumped.
I won’t pretend I’m thriving in possibility with a new spring in my step; I spent the first three days moping at work and checking Skyscanner for the cheapest country I could relocate to.
While diving headfirst into self-reinvention can feel cathartic — and might be the fresh start you need — I’m going to offer the opposite advice (so you don’t end up in Argentina feeling just as heartbroken as you did at home).
Once you run out of tissues and get sick of Spotify’s ‘Heartbreak Mix’, take a step back and remember who you are. And I don’t just mean sweeping self-love statements.
I mean the way you laugh when your friend snorts mid-sentence. I mean how you always cry at the same part in your favourite book. I mean the small, stubborn rituals that keep you tethered when everything feels loose: your chipped mug, your loud opinions about oat milk, the playlist you made for no one but yourself.
A breakup doesn’t just take away a person — it can temporarily steal your sense of self. You forget who you were before them, because you were so busy becoming something together.
But the good news is: that becoming didn’t stop. You’re still growing, still unfolding, even if it feels like standing still.
And there’s something radical about not rushing the glow-up. About sitting in the quiet. Letting the wound breathe. Refusing to rebrand your pain into productivity.
It’s okay to just be sad — and still be whole.
I always find breakups challenge my self-worth and “lovability,” and this one is no exception. That’s a natural reaction, and I encourage you to sit with that feeling for a moment. Not because it’s accurate, but because it’s important to recognise our insecurities and doubts so that we can confront them with what we know is true: you are surrounded by love, and evidence of it — you just have to look for it.
My first advice? Text your friends. And be honest about how you’re feeling.
I have never felt so scooped up and loved by my friends as I have this past week. I was falling down hard, and they caught me, stood me up, and dusted me off. Cards and flowers in the post reminded me that I am entirely worthy of princess treatment — and just because one person decided they couldn’t do that for me doesn’t make me any less valuable.
I wish nothing but the best for my brand new ex.
I just think it’s a bummer they don’t have room on their plate for me at the moment.
Unfortunately, I will not be dimming my light or taking up less space — because I know I’m happiest when I’m shining and loudly loving myself.
Breakups are strange little deaths — not just of the relationship, but of the imagined future, the inside jokes, the shared habits.
But what remains is your capacity to give and receive love. That doesn’t disappear just because one version of it ended.
If anything, heartbreak is a sharp reminder of how deeply you’re able to feel. That’s not something to be ashamed of. It’s something to build a life around.
So if you’re in the thick of it: be gentle. Let yourself sulk. Romanticise your own resilience. Eat something delicious. Go for a walk and pretend it’s the opening scene of your coming-of-age film. Write about it. Cry about it. Then text someone who reminds you who you are when you forget.