Breakup after 5 years leaves writer heartbroken

Carolyn Hax
Carolyn Hax

Q: I’m 25, and my boyfriend of five years just broke up with me. I was blindsided. I had been going through a difficult time at a new job and was absorbed with my own problems. I was leaning on him too heavily for support. I would have tried to make the relationship work if he’d said he was unhappy. He said this isn’t something that can be fixed.

I know heartbreak is part of being human. I know that I’m young, that I shouldn’t expect to spend my entire life with my first boyfriend, that I’m lucky he didn’t wait until we lived together, and that I’m lucky to have supportive friends.

But we did everything together, we talked about everything (except, apparently, his doubts), and everything reminds me of him. I’m exhausted from feeling sad and scared.

How do I start to accept this? I don’t have any single friends. I’m tired of feeling pathetic.


A: You’ve already started to accept this, you just don’t see it yet.

Your weariness with feeling pathetic is a dead giveaway. It’s not feeling bad that motivates us to reach for something different, it’s getting annoyed with feeling bad — annoyed enough to face the different kind of struggle that comes with moving on.

In that sense you’re further along than you realize. You don’t have to agonize about whether your relationship is working, whether you’d regret leaving or regret staying, etc. Your ex handed you big changes as a fait accompli. All you need to sort out now are the particulars of your new circumstances.

I don’t mean to sound like a complete lizard here; I understand the pain you’re in. But when surging emotions seize control of all your executive functions, a little lizardry can help.

It can remind you that relationships of five years don’t end over five weeks of self-absorption. General reflection is important and useful, but this breakup was coming regardless, so don’t second-guess what you said two weeks ago Thursday.

It can remind you that new breakups are like new jobs, handing you an unfamiliar routine requiring intense presence of mind where your old circumstances were comfortably reflexive. It’s normal to feel overwhelmed by a learning curve until familiarity starts to kick in.

It can remind you that being with someone requires a specific kind of effort: of accommodating someone’s habits, emotions, preferences, autonomy, etc., while remaining fully yourself. Now no such effort is required — home is all you! — which is convenient, because that energy can go toward an effort you’ve neglected, building friendships. You didn’t lose everything; you just traded one emotional challenge for another.

Have your sad and scared jags; they’re a cathartic part of a lousy process. In between, though, listen for what the lizard has to say: This was unavoidable, it hurts intensely, intensity fades. Trust time and trust your own resourcefulness, If you do, then together they’ve got this, I swear.

Email Carolyn Hax at, or chat with her online at noon each Friday at

Washington Post Writers Group