Tetris

The first man who broke my heart was Nicholas, you can call him Santa Claus. And we all know why.

The second one was Leo that after spending an evening staring at the stars, moved to another state and never came back.

Pedro followed, who began to share the preschool water fountain with Sandra and not with me.

And then I lost count, so many times have I fallen in love alone.

It was only after that I realized that Nicholas, Leandro, or Pedro broke my heart. That would happen years later, never to forget.

The pain of a broken heart doesn’t resemble any other pain I felt. It hurts when you breathe and doesn’t go away with Ibuprofen, regardless of dosage. However, no one dies of a broken heart. Or passion, or longing or shame. Romeo and Juliet didn’t die of love but for lack of communication. Jack didn’t die of love, he froze to death because he couldn’t fit on that piece of wood that saved Kate. (Debatable if he fit or not).

What I’m trying to say is that a shattered heart doesn’t stop beating! The world continues to turn, our view of it becomes distorted. We lose, psychologically, direction. The good news is that there are solutions, in your own way. You can follow the “new rules” of Dua Lipa and not speak to your ex or listen to Justin Bieber who appeals for a friendship. You can follow the advice of your parents, friends, co-workers or acquaintances (who give their opinion while you choose the peppers in the supermarket). Or … you can follow what gives you comfort, peace of mind and courage.
Take your time. There is no chronometer to heal a broken heart.

This is my story, similar and different from all of those that are out there.

It’s mine.

I lived a love greater than time but it ended, in the most painful and humiliating way a love can end.

When my heart broke into a thousand little pieces, I played Tetris with the pieces and rebuilt the puzzle. (I wrote this sentence in 10 seconds, it took me three years to complete the puzzle).

It was slow, painful and exhausting. There was the emptiness, a black hole that swallowed all my positive energy. I was chained with nothing arresting me. I fought against myself and I never won that war. There is relearning how to walk, love and live alone. I was afraid of facing a crowd, of asking a table for one and hang out at public places alone. Fear of not belonging to someone, afraid to be just me. All because I didn’t know how to bury someone that it was still alive.

I found it impossible to recover on my own. I was that girl who always talks about the same thing, all the time and to the same people. I didn’t seek pity or mercy, but reliving in words made me not feel alone.

There were several bottles of wine that I poured with my friends. Always ending up with me on their lap to cry baba and snot. When the lame songs played on the radio there were times that I furiously changed stations and others that I listened and cried at the wheel.

I was looking for ways to entertain the pain and the Disney puzzles, of 1000 pieces, were my favorite drug.

On a cold December night, the doors of Toys “R” Us slipped and I burst in, like someone entering the pharmacy looking for the holy cure for the otitis. I went to the puzzles section and grabbed three, because there was no patience to choose:

“Want me to wrap it up?” Asked the girl with the round glasses.

“Yes, please.” – I lied.

I lied because I was ashamed to say no. As if a “no” meant that the puzzles were for me, because I wanted to put together the 1000 pieces which my heart broke. I lied, because the girl seemed to see my pain through the magic monocles. However, the pain went deeper at home when I tore the Christmas paper around.

It wasn’t just her that I lied to. I lied to all of those who are still part of my life. They knew I was lying and I knew they knew I was lying. And it was alright, it’s all part of it. I told them that I was happy, when mid-afternoon I was short of breath. That he didn’t bother me anymore, when every night I cried myself to sleep. That she played puzzles for taste and not because she was lost. That I felt free when I lived only from past memories. Living of the past is not being free. But I only realize that today.

After a long time, I suddenly came back to me. On an average meetup for lunch, my grandmother reformed my perspective.

I was at the table, elbows resting on it, my head hanging between my hands. I was contemplating the embroidery of the white tablecloth:

– What is it, darling? She asked me as she washed the dishes.

– Nothing, grandma… Things of the heart. Fear of being alone forever.

– Oh, child… I have friends at the nursing home who are getting married now, you have plenty of time! You’re worrying about it now?  God damn it!

My grandmother is 80 years old. And I laughed. For the first time in a long time I laughed with pure joy.

I adopted other techniques, cleared my vision and took command of my life.

I forced myself to listen to all the songs that, without owning them, were ours. The pain the songs brought to me has diminished and today it is just a song.

From “ignore me,” “if you answer you die,” “you’re dumb every day,” “Voldemort,” I changed his name one last time. It was saved on my phone with the name he was baptized with. And it didn’t hurt so much whenever he contacted me.

I didn’t forget the dates that were important to us, but I no longer remember celebrating them.

I learned to live with myself and with my solitude. And there is no better company for me than myself. I go to the movies by myself. I travel alone. I go to the restaurant by myself. Not because I have no friends or company, but I also like doing things with by myself.

Today I live free of a past that destroyed me but that is part of me. I mean it without shame, it was a learning experience. I would never have found myself if I continued to love others more than me. And this is my magic formula, not putting my happiness into hands that are not mine. I’m happy for myself, everything else is a complement, an extra.