At The End Of The Day, I’m A Human Healing A 💔

The past few days have been a whirlwind of highs and lows. My first standup performance was last Tuesday, and it was magical.

I felt alive.

Confident.

Joyous.

High on laughs and life.

I felt at home on stage…sharing my weird, quirky personality, which I don't even show on social media or through my writing…but on stage. I could be someone who shamelessly rants about being bullied by mediocre women in the fashion industry

The Devil does not wear Prada, unlike the infamous movie everyone brings up when they find out I used to be an NYC fashion designer. The Devil is your average grumpy boomer who owns a house in upstate New York and complains about rent to "fit in" with the millennial team that she bullies.

Maybe someday the world can see me rant about toxic fashion bosses on a Netflix special, but for now, I will continue to go to musty open mics at sports bars in Chicago to build my skills. It's not glamorous, but I weirdly love disrupting this white cis male-dominated world.

Mainly because a new part of me that's emerging seriously gives zero fucks. It's exhilarating being a comedian and building a quick resilience to rejection through the craft of comedic writing and performing.

If you're a non-fiction writer, I dare you to try standup writing and explore a new side of yourself... It's allowed me to be even more honest, vulnerable, and less judgmental when performing!

After riding the night high of a performance, I SLAYED; my boyfriend called me the next day, having doubts about our long-distance relationship, eventually leading to an amicable breakup filled with tears, activated nervous systems, and disbelief.

My first healthy relationship was over.

My first healing relationship was no more.

Fuck.

The person I so badly wanted to be the one was now another ex.

I've seen hundreds of videos on TikTok of people sharing their first healthy relationship after the abusive one…how they married that person…had they got a happy ending..had babies, and sailed off into the sunset with the person who made them believe in love again.

I wanted that ending.

I thought I had that ending.

I was wrong.

And that's okay.

It didn't work out, and I'm okay.

He's not the one, and I'll be okay.

I won't have his babies, get married, or live happily ever after with him, and that's okay.

Because I still get to have all those things…and with the right person.

I can still dream fearlessly because this relationship taught me that I am worthy of love and everything I desire.

My former partner loved me through nearly the past two years of me healing childhood trauma for the first time.

My therapist said deep traumas often emerge in a safe partnership because your body knows you're ready to heal.

She also said long-distance relationships could amplify old childhood wounds and bring you back to an old attachment wound for people recovering from complex trauma. This was recent news to me post-breakup but made so much sense with my anxious attachment style coming back the past month.

Parts of my childhood trauma I had shamed for over two decades (that I will be ready to share when my memoir is completed) emerged with my partner shortly after I met him and continued to appear over and over, especially when we were apart.

There were moments when I was so exhausted from healing through EMDR, somatic experiencing, neurofeedback, and CBT therapy I just wanted to give up and quit everything.

I was swimming for dear life, grasping onto every trauma modality left and right. It was insane how much I did in such a short time.

And in those dark moments…my former partner loved me through it…If not, he loved me harder when he saw my shadows.

Because he loved my shadow parts, he taught me that I, too, can give this part of me love…

And that's why he no longer had a place in my life.

His love served its purpose. And it was time for us to redirect the love we gave to each other back inward to ourselves.

This heartbreak was beautiful, tragic, inevitable, and perfectly emulates the hard truth of the human experience…impermanence.

Moments don't last forever….but his love has left an imprint on my heart. Memories I wish I could relive over and over again…but wait…I can…through writing.

Because I'm a fucking memoir writer… I can go back to the beginning of my shitty first draft…and write about him until my heart bleeds from the nostalgia and joyous moments with him…knowing he was just a blip in my life.

His love changed my life.

His love made me a better woman.

His love healed me in more ways than you'll ever know…

And now I channel this love into my memoir…because I want you to feel what I experienced and give you hope about the mystery, synchronicities, and magic of the human experience.

Most of all, I want to write to honor the power of requited love and how it truly is the anti-dote to healing trauma…because relational trauma can only be healed through relational repairment… whether it comes from a romantic partner, a friendship, or another type of safe relationship…love is a powerful force to heal our broken parts and to remind every one of us, we are here to be loved.

Sincerely,

Mary

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