When Love Isn’t Enough: The Lessons I Learned from my Breakup

“This is not where your story ends. It’s simply where it takes a turn you didn’t expect.” ~Cheryl Strayed

He had the courage to say what I couldn’t.

“It’s not working anymore.”

It didn’t make any sense that we were breaking up. We loved each other so much. We had been talking about getting engaged. Our couples therapy was moving in a positive direction, even when it was really challenging.

When he said those words, I knew I wasn’t going to argue with him. As much as we loved each other, we had taken the relationship as far as it could go.

But this isn’t a story about lost love. It’s about all the love you can find when it leaves.

I knew our relationship had felt off for a while.

Earlier in the day before the breakup, when he went to the bar to watch the football game, I got down on my knees and prayed for clarity. I felt lost about whether I should stay and fight for the relationship or if it was time for it to end.

Our relationship felt like a back-and-forth struggle for months. We even took a long weekend trip to New Orleans to reignite our spark. But when we got back home, it seemed like one minute he was my one-man cheering section at my half marathon, and the next we were yelling at each other sitting in our parked car.

The minute I prayed for help, I knew that the relationship needed to end. But I wasn’t willing to be honest and admit that to myself. I wasn’t really ready to say those words out loud. I didn’t want them to be true, even though I knew deep down that they were true.

A few hours later, he walked in the door and said the words no one wants to hear, “We need to talk.”

And then began a two-hour-long conversation about ending our relationship and honoring what we had shared together. We had dated off and on for almost five years, living together for two. And it was over.

While we had fun together and had undeniable chemistry, our compatibility never fit together. He had plenty of trauma from his past, and he questioned me when I encouraged him to have a life of his own outside of the relationship. He feared that if he was fully himself, I would yell and try to control him.

And I had my own issues where I tried for so long to twist myself into being the perfect girlfriend. Eventually I got tired of pretending to be someone I wasn’t, but he didn’t seem to like who I really was. So, I made myself as small as possible, trying to be pleasing and acceptable but struggling to also be myself.

It seemed that we loved each other, and we managed to bring out the worst in each other, despite all our best efforts.

Loving someone isn’t always enough for a successful relationship. In our situation, we really were each other’s biggest cheerleader. And we wanted success and happiness so much for the other person that we masked our true selves.

I can’t speak for him, but I was afraid if I stepped into my full, powerful self that I would be rejected and told I was too much. I feared being abandoned once he saw me for who I really was.

I learned too late into the relationship to let myself be vulnerable and real. By the time I did, our dynamic patterns had already been established, and the change was too much. He reacted in ways that reinforced my worst fears—that I was unlovable, that I was asking too much, that my real self wasn’t worthy of love.

I deeply regret not being myself from day one in the relationship. But the pain of regret is a powerful teacher.

I don’t know if our relationship would have gone differently if I had been real from the beginning. Maybe it would have never started. Or maybe it would have gone the distance. There’s no way to know.

But that’s not a lingering question I’m willing to have in the future. I knew this relationship was teaching me that I DO matter, and I needed to learn how to be myself without the masks.

It took me a lot of deep inner work to rebuild my confidence after that relationship ended. I needed to believe that I would be okay no matter what happened if I revealed who I am at the beginning of a relationship.

I practiced picking myself up after rejection and letting myself feel those really icky feelings that I had been trying to avoid—feelings like despair, disappointment, embarrassment, and shame.

One of the hardest parts of mourning the breakup was that no one had done anything wrong. I had to learn to live in the paradox that we love each other and breaking up was the right thing. I learned that it’s enough that I don’t want to be in that relationship dynamic anymore.

Pain is here as our teacher. It shows up to let us know what not to do.

Most people want to rush through the pain as fast as possible. It’s not comfortable to allow the pain to be there without trying to make it all better.

But when you learn how to sit with the pain and befriend it, there is so much wisdom to learn.

My pain showed me all the ways I avoid being with myself and all the ways I had already abandoned myself—before any boyfriend could even have a chance. I was so quick to blame my problems on everyone else and then complain to my friends over glasses of rosé. I numbed my pain with wine, partying, hookups, nights out with friends, and Netflix.

I see now that when I do that repeatedly, I end up not receiving pain’s wisdom. And instead, my life keeps giving me the same lesson over and over until I’m ready to learn it.

I signed up with a therapist, a coach, and a women’s embodiment group. Each one brought a different way of guiding me to the lesson I was really avoiding:

No one can abandon me if I don’t abandon myself first.

I had to learn to love all of me. Even the parts that I think aren’t worthy. And I’m not writing this because I’m done learning, and I figured it all out. But I’m willing to learn, and I’m trying to be a bit more loving every day.

I remember being on a retreat in Mexico with my women’s group in the final moments of our time together. I raised my hand for coaching in front of everyone for the first time. I brought my messiest self and braced myself for shame.

Instead, I let myself look in the eyes of the women around me as I shared my messiest self, and I saw nothing but love being reflected to me.

My messiest self was lovable. I can bring her with me. I don’t have to be perfect, and I don’t have to show up how I think other people need me to be. I can just be me.

I still struggle with this, honestly. I still try to be perfect and have it all figured out. But I remember back to the version of me in that relationship, and she seems so different from the woman I am today. I look at her with so much compassion because she’s trying so hard to be lovable.

She hasn’t accepted the truth that she’s already lovable as she is. And that kind of love is always going to be enough for me. There is peace and power in loving myself.

If my ex hadn’t broken up with me, I don’t think I would have let myself be totally broken open and vulnerable. And as painful as it was, I am forever grateful he was brave enough to break my heart.