by Slipwater
You laugh, because it feels better than crying
You live, because it's better than dying.
- K. Ryder.
Nothing feels quite like a broken heart.
It's true.
Women speak of the pain of childbirth - like passing a bowling ball through the eye of a needle, apparently. Well, not quite, my dear. Not quite. Men on the other hand, talk about what a sharp kick to the groin feels like. Ouch! You don't forget that in a hurry, let me tell you.
Both sexes wear these gender specific facts like medals. While I have experienced one of these lows (fifth grade, size three shoes), and am unlikely to be party to the other, when asked the all-important question the feeling is unanimous - neither of these events match the sheer torture and torment that a broken heart can wreak.
A broken heart is the single greatest pain you will ever have to endure. In fact, it is the most hurt you could ever imagine. The worst thing about it is that the one who commits this emotional crime is not someone you hate - not even someone you dislike.
No.
Because the only person who is capable of breaking your heart is the one who holds it precariously in their hands, the one with whom you have shared your dreams, your secrets, your fears - the one you love more than anybody else in the world... and therein lies the irony.
That is the chance you take, you see. Love is all about risk. If you give your heart to someone else - as most of us do at one time or another - it is theirs to do with as they wish. You now have absolutely no control over it, and whether it remains intact is up to them.
Still, you tend not to worry too much about it. Why should you? The person holding your heart would never do anything to hurt you. Well if that were true the music industry wouldn't have too much to sing about, now would it? It's all about tears and pain and hurt and death. Country & western wouldn't even exist!
Heartbreak is an odd kind of pain, because you are not dying. You are not even sick. For all intents and purposes you are perfectly fine, yet inside - where your heart used to be - you hurt so much that you can't breathe, you can't sleep, and you can't stop the tears from falling. You may eat too much; you may not eat at all. Non-smokers light up; non-drinkers find a bar.
A broken heart is the world's great equaliser, because it can bring even the strongest man to his knees.
It happens to the best of us, they say. Time heals everything, they say. What doesn't kill us can only make us stronger, they say. And my personal favourite - it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Yeah, right. Bullshit, I say.
While your family and friends trot out the same old tired clichis that were old when their grandparents were courting, you stand there and nod your head in all the right places, simultaneously wondering exactly how far you can jam your thumb into their eye socket before you started pushing against their brain.
Pretty far, don't you think?
Yes, you will listen to any advice you are given - take a holiday, take a walk, join a gym, get a haircut - because everybody over the age of consent thinks they have an Honours Degree in Heartache. Too much Oprah. Even if their longest relationship is the three minutes between erection and ejaculation, you can bet they still have an opinion, and you can bet just as much they are going to let you hear it.
At the end of it all though you won't actually take any of this armchair psychology seriously, because you are stubborn, and because nobody else knows what the hell you are going through anyway. I mean, how could they?
It's your heart that lies bleeding on the floor next to you, not theirs. It's your tears. It's your pain, for God's sake! The old folk are the worst, because they've got life experience, and no matter how much you accomplish in your life, you never seem to have as much of it as they do.
Empty advice is difficult to stomach at the best of times, but when the person dishing the so-called 'kind words' has been happily married for twenty years, and can't remember the last time their heart came under any emotional stress, it's a little too much to bear!
It's easy to spot someone who has just had their heart broken. You'll see them out walking aimlessly, like extras from a zombie flick, muttering to themselves in a language only they understand. Every now and then one of them is run down by a passing truck or bus. Man, love really is blind! Not that it really matters anyway. It's survival of the fittest. Nothing personal.
How long does it take to get over a broken heart? It's simple really. Never. There is no glue to mend that kind of thing; no bandage, no quick fix. All you can do is bend down, pick up the pieces, and hope you have enough there to find a little happiness once the tears have dried on your cheeks.
Sure, you move on, you go out with other people, you smile, you laugh, you love again, you get married, you have two-point-four children, you collect your pension, you die. You may very well have a good life - a great life even - but that break is always there.
There may be days, weeks - months even - when it doesn't cross your mind at all, but don't go fooling yourself into thinking the pain has gone. You have it tucked away along with all your best kept secrets. You will be on your deathbed and through the haze of your memory the only thing you will know for sure is what happened to your heart all those years ago.
Very few people go through life unscathed - only the lucky ones amongst us. Love is a bumpy ride. Most of us have to endure a few scratches and scrapes along the way, a couple of bruises, maybe a fracture or two.
Try to think of your busted heart as a final rite of passage into adulthood, but instead of smearing mud on your face and trekking across the Amazonian jungle, a girl comes along and kicks your heart about for a while.
It's a little less dramatic, but I'll take that over the mosquito bites any day.
Now pat yourself on the back; you're in the club. You never wanted to sign up, I'm sure, but you're here for life. 'Til death us do part, baby.
Get over it!
...And then it happens - not all of a sudden, and not all at once - but grudgingly, just like your sweet grandmother told you, you don't give up hope.
Pretty soon the sun starts to shine, and the grass grows under your feet. Food tastes great; music sounds better. You find that you're laughing, and you didn't think you would ever do that again.
Why?
Those things your parents told you, the silly little things everybody said to make you feel better, remember? Yeah, that's right, back when you weren't listening to anything anybody had to say. Well, all that stuff, it's all true.
I know, who would've thought it? But it happens. You do get over it. Time takes a needle and thread to your heart and sows it right back up again, and in no time at all you don't even see the scar anymore.
Now it thumps like new, like it did before.
All that pain and hurt - all that anger - is locked inside. Not lost, not forgotten, just no longer a part of who I am. It's who I used to be. You chalk it up to life's great tapestry and move on, because what else can you do? You can't go back, and you sure as hell can't stand still.
Life doesn't have a pause button.
And then, when you least expect it, love comes up from behind and hits you like a heavyweight. Bitter feelings for one become warm feelings for another, and you wonder why the hell you wasted so much time beating yourself up.
She smiles at you and you throw her one in return. You buy the chocolates, the flowers; you open doors, and stifle your burps, and before you know it, you turn around and you're in so deep you can't even see where you started.
You have given your heart to another.
She holds it in her hand, and for a little while you worry that she will crush it, stomp it, tear it apart, like the last, but soon you realise that this new one keeps yours in a box with kisses and cotton wool. She will take care of it, and you.
Love is funny like that. Dead one moment; alive and kicking your a** the next.
So don't fear the pain when it comes: accept it, embrace it. It's the only way this thing is going to work. You have to taste the sour to appreciate the sweet.
...I think I'll save that one for my own kids.
