I hadn’t gotten out of bed in weeks, maybe a month? At this point, days often blur together. I'm so depressed.
Staring at my phone, I'm haunted by an embarrassing number of outgoing calls and messages I'd sent, all left on read. It’s official. I was ghosted by my boyfriend. We had been planning a trip to celebrate the one-year anniversary of our first date.
My eyes have officially blurred from over-analyzing over a year's worth of messages, trying to pinpoint where it all went wrong.
I’m at a loss. Did I imagine it all? Maybe. It certainly felt too good to be true.
Countless cross-country flights meeting the love of my life, hours of laughter with tears streaming down our faces, dancing on balconies, time slipping away unnoticed, sparks flying with every kiss, perfect simple moments on long walks blurred with beautiful romantic nights.
We'd often get lost in each other's eyes. People in our orbit would become visibly uncomfortable around us, almost as if they could feel the intensity of our connection and felt like their presence was intruding. Someone who witnessed our meeting said it was like watching two halves of a soul meeting for the first time. I denied it, of course, but deep down I knew exactly what she meant.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I made it all up. I open my phone once again, beginning my daily doom scroll of distraction from my present reality... then I see him. A familiar heatwave rushes through my body. It was the aftershock evidence I needed that this was, in fact, real.
I pretend not to care, yet his posts taunt me—one day from Europe, the next from Catalina Island, where we were planning our anniversary trip.
Oh, he seems just fine, traveling the world and moving on as if I never existed. The abandonment is heart-wrenching, the avoidance enraging, the disregard devastating, but the blatant disrespect of our love, unforgivable. Not only could I not believe this had happened to me, but that he had done this to me…to us. I trusted him, which I rarely do. This was a betrayal.
I must have been just a pawn, collateral damage in his selfish game. I’m spiraling. Yet, I couldn't let him go. Loving him was a deathless dream.
My vibrating phone jolts me from my spiral back to reality.
I sit up abruptly, as if a fire alarm had sounded. It’s a former brand partner I loved working with. Why are they calling—oh, they must have heard the news. The shock from my phone ringing painfully reminds me, oh yeah, it’s not just my heart that’s broken... my career is on fire too. In a timespan of less than 30 days, my entire world had imploded. I hesitate, realizing I finally have to answer the question I’ve been avoiding...
"So, what are you doing now?"
Truth: I had no. fucking. idea.
But I couldn't say that. Correction, I didn’t want to say that. I didn’t want to admit out loud to anyone, let alone to myself, that my entire life was a goddamn disaster.
Dream job: gone.
My son: barely speaking to me.
My health: is butter a carb?
Relationship: ??? dead, I guess.
Finances: 90 days until bankruptcy.
My life had become one of those trainwrecks you can’t look away from.
In the three seconds I had to answer before it got awkward, I summoned a response from, I can only guess, the devil herself.
"Oh, yes, I'm starting my own company," I blurted out. The words escaped my lips before I could stop them.
I wasn’t really starting a company, but considering my son barely saw me for the past ten years while I hustled for everyone else, and with my bank account draining rapidly, I literally had nothing left to lose.
I spent the next 30 minutes excitedly pitching a company that didn’t exist to one of my favorite executives in the beauty industry.
I felt guilty for lying like a Miami crypto founder hyping up their blockchain on a first date. I realized mid-call, I don’t think I'm lying.
She was sold (what?!) and ready to move onto next steps with someone she knew would be a great fit for us.
I ended the call and once the adrenaline left my body, it hit me...
Oh shit—I guess I have to start a company now.
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Remember those days!😬