The Upside of Heartbreak

Chapter One

Sunshine streaming through a gap in the bedroom curtain and I turn over in bed onto my back and groan. Every morning for the past three months, at least, I have woken up the same way. Dreading the day, what is to come and how am I going to get through it. Reminiscing about what could have been and the feeling of being stuck, not able to move forward. I lay awake, hands behind my head cushioned by my memory foam pillow with a lemon pillow case. Wondering what I'm talking about, let me rewind three months when things started to go a little cra-cra.

This is no "dear diary, confess all my sins" type of moment. I mean it's a moment but this is real life, so here it goes. September rolls around and I turned the big 30, a milestone for any girl. Leaving my 20's and becoming a real adult. For most girls, I guess by the time 30 hits we have our sights set on a steady boyfriend or marriage, healthy income, popping out 1 or 2 kids over the next few years.

Hasn't turned out so perfectly for me so far. I had a handsome steady boyfriend, Stan (feel free to call him Stan the man) who I'd been seeing for about one year, exclusive or so I thought till he turned up one night at our flat smelling of cheap perfume and full of dirty sins (total lipstick on the collar kind of stuff), staggers in, murmuring something I can't recall than passes out on the couch. He conveniently left his phone unlocked and his phone was buzzing non-stop. Messages from Nell asking for a second helping of "Stan's big man", love heart emoji, smiley face emoji. Feel free to start calling him Stan the dead man, because as you can imagine, rage ensues, following by howling (from me, seriously I didn't know I had that vocal range). This is then followed by cutting up favourite band t-shirts, tearing up our pictures, then, of course, waiting for him to wake up so I could kick him out the door. Of course, the waiting took the dramatics down a notch but neither the less when he woke we exchanged a few choice words, well from me mainly as the poor sucker couldn't get a word in, then I kicked his arse out. Stan and I were over for good, no going back which is what I posted on Facebook about 10 minutes after I slammed the door in his face. In hindsight, I should have waited until the next morning but I needed the comfort of venting to friends, family, colleagues, people I'd only met once through our friends and old high school friends I never spoke to. Got a lot of "likes" and "are you okay" comments I think translates to poor Taylor or totally saw that coming. Took a lot of couch time to get over him, which didn't help my job. Well, when you dress like a homeless person every day for weeks turns out you don't get considered for that department Manager role you were a shoe in for. On the upside, I did watch all 7 seasons of Vampire of Diaries and Game of Thrones and went from a size 10 to a 12 so went up a whole cup size.

So here I am three months later, still in bed, dreading the day ahead. The girls in my department have been telling me I've got to get back to the land of the living and get in touch with the real me. I'm pretty sure that doesn't involve solo trips gallivanting around the globe, eating pasta or meditating so how do I find myself and get back on the waggon, as mum would say. Today is the day I decided to do something about it. So here goes nothing.

It's a Tuesday in mid-December. I stretch out, roll over and check my phone. One message from Sophie "Are you coming to lunch with Joanne and me today? Coco's at 12.30". I rub my eyes and think of my schedule. I forgot about the lunch. It's been easy to do over the past few months but I promised myself I would actually try and be social and not so awkward when people try to have an actual conversation with me so reply "Hey Soph, can't wait, see you later xx". I swing my legs over the bed and walk over to the clothes rack, surveying what clean clothes I have to wear to work. After the breakup, I decided to move back in with mum and dad, it seemed like a sensible idea at the time.  At first, mum was around me all the time, checking up on me, making late night snacks for me. I swear that women had the oven preheated ready to make something if I came downstairs late at night. Nowadays, she doesn't hover and they've moved on and I guess that's somewhat my queue to start getting my life together. I decided to go with a blue pin stripe knee length skirt and a red blouse. I search through my underwear drawer for some knickers and a bra. I really hadn't bothered with sexy lingerie given the circumstances, but staring down at the very bare draw of knickers and mismatched bras, I think it is time for some new underwear. I closed the drawer and walk to the bathroom. The cold white tiles under my feet hit me with a little shiver. I tip toe to the shower and turn on the hot and cold, jump in and let the water wash over me. I never spend a lot of time in the shower, so I do what I need to and get out, drying my hair, and running my brush through my mid length brown locks. These past few months I haven't been wearing makeup but this morning I decided to put some foundation, concealer, mascara, and a quick lick of strawberry lip balm. I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Dark circles taken care of with concealer, double chin dropping dangerously close to a triple chin. Why doesn't anyone ever tell me these things?