Category Archives: Personal

I Am an Exaholic: Part 2

Today’s post is going to start off where part one ended: what happens when love is lost.

Broken Attachment

Even before a breakup happens, most people can sense their relationship is failing long before it is officially over. The limbic brain senses that you are in one of the most terrible dangers a human can experience: disconnection. Anxiety flares. The neocortex tries to find evidence to make sense of your inarticulate emotional experiences, getting stuck on rational details like what exactly was said or done that indicates the attachment is being threatened.

When a romantic attachment starts to feel less secure, most relationships begin to polarize into a pursue/withdraw pattern. In other words, one partner chases and the other pulls away. The pursuer experiences the other as unavailable or unresponsive and attempts to seek contact and reconnect with increasing intensity. The withdrawer experiences the pursuer as emotionally unsafe and withdraws both physically and emotionally (which only heightens the pursuer’s anxiety). This cycle usually intensifies over time. Each spin around the cycle stretches the attachment ever further, until eventually, it breaks.

The Aftermath of a Breakup

Almost everyone in the aftermath of a lost cherished relationship describes the same experience: feeling devastated about the loss, being obsessed with thoughts of their Ex, feeling an overwhelming desire to reconnect, doing compulsive things in efforts to maintain proximity with their Ex, and feeling absolutely helpless to stop those feelings- even when they really want to and know they should. It’s even more terrible and confusing when their relationship seemed satisfying and meaningful.

All humans are terribly impacted by the horrible feelings that rejection creates. Many people describe the moment they realized their relationship was ending as having an unreal quality to it- like a nightmare. In these first moments when you are confronted with rejection or abandonment, everything in your body goes into survival mode. For humans, like most mammals, abandonment is a primary trauma. When you lose your partner, your body, mind, and emotions experience it as a direct threat to your survival and fundamental well-being. When loss is happening neurotransmitters like dopamine and norepinephrine soar, creating intense agitation and emotionality. When enduring the trauma of abandonment, you may be flooded with anxiety that can border on panic or terror.

The 9 Phases of Post-Breakup Trauma 

Protest and Despair

Even if you are the one initiating the breakup, in the moment that you separate from the person to whom you have been so strongly attached you are still likely to have an intense emotional reaction. The emotions associated with a threatened primary attachment feel less like sadness and more like a threat to your very existence. This primal experience can be very confusing for people, and the fear and anxiety they feel at the moment of separation can make them think that maybe they should stay in the relationship after all (even if the relationship is very unhealthy for them). The drive to reestablish contact is so strong that it can feel absolutely overwhelming and impossible to resist. This is why people call and text even when they know they shouldn’t, stalk Facebook and Instagram pages, and arrange for unexpected encounters, even when the object of their affection no longer wants anything to do with them.,

Like protest, despair has very distinct characteristics and is a coherent physiological and psychological state. Despair begins as frantic efforts to reconnect collapse, single-minded hope is replaced with hopelessness and a new certainty that the beloved is not coming back.

Withdrawal

As I discussed in part one, romantic love is experienced through the same reward and motivation systems that illicit drugs hijack when you get high and falling in love is similar to having a fierce substance addiction. Therefore, when love is taken away, everything inside of you blazes into a fury of craving and need. The experience of jilted lovers is highly consistent with symptoms of withdrawal to addictive substances.

Obsession

Obsession fuels love. Early stage love is characterized by obsessions that percolate excited feelings and daydreams about your lover. Similarly, a bad breakup is defined by dark obsessions that spin out into nightmarish anxieties. One important thing to understand about obsessions after a breakup is that because losing an attachment triggers the biological, physiological experience of love, your thoughts about your Ex are much more likely to be focused on their positive qualities. This means you will once again begin to idealize your lover, downplay their flaws, and focus on the wonderful parts of your relationship.

Information Gathering

If you can’t communicate with your lover or have actual contact with them, gathering information about them is another way to keep your beloved close to you. You may watch their social media pages to gain insight into their state of mind, make sense of what happened, look for evidence of where they’ve been, who they’re with, and how they’re feeling. You try to interpret small clues and nuances from things they post about how they feel. Are they sad? Do they care? Do they still love you? You may personalize their online activity, interpreting posts and pictures as efforts to communicate with you.

Love and Hate

Interestingly, even when people are very angry with their rejecting partner, their brain scans still give evidence of much of the same activity as romantically attracted people. This implies that as intense as your hatred toward your Ex might be, it doesn’t necessarily extinguish feelings of love. The truth is, love and hate are close neighbors, neurologically speaking, occupying nearly the same small patch of real estate in your brain. They fuel each other and tend to go hand in hand- which may be why your partner can incite rage and irrationality in you in the way that no one else can. The true opposite of love isn’t hate at all, but indifference; heartbroken lovers are anything but indifferent.

Physical Symptoms

Studies have found that people in long-term relationships tend to impact each other physiologically. Stable relationships create a sense of security and co-regulation that has physical implications. When that security is disrupted, it takes a physical toll. Abrupt disconnection from a long-term lover creates changes in sleeping and eating patterns, affects your immune system, and triggers a stress response.

Loss of Self-Esteem

Breakups are so fundamentally traumatizing and damaging to your self-esteem because of the rejection at the core of the experience. If you are heartbroken, it means that you really loved your Ex. You believed they loved you. You gave yourself to them and trusted them to love you back. When they couldn’t, or wouldn’t, it feels like a statement about your worth. If you had been better, sexier, more fun, more accomplished, less difficult, or more lovable, you would have been enough for them. They would have loved you better. Instead, they hurt you, mistreated you, or simply rejected you. When the one person you totally opened up to changes their mind about you, it changes the way you feel about yourself. Self-confidence can feel shattered; when you lose value in the eyes of your Ex, you lose value in your own eyes as well.

Social and Other Losses

In the midst of your inner torment, the outside reality of your life may be in shambles as well. You lose so much when a relationship ends. Your other friendships may be strained, attempts to spend time with friends you knew as a couple may be awkward. You are decimated by pain and may be in the grips of a feverish compulsion to know everything about your Ex, making interactions uncomfortable for everyone. The loyalties of your friends may be divided. Losing your relationship may make you feel like you have lost your entire life.

Relapse 

Months, even years after a breakup, a chance run-in with an Ex can trigger all the old desires and longings. Often, Exaholics in recovery are also triggered by seeing certain people, being in particular places, or hearing songs that remind them of their Ex. Such exposures can bring about a new round of craving and obsessive thinking, and even trigger a new flurry of texting, calling, and lurking around in efforts to reconnect with their lost love.

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If you are reading this wondering, “Is this ever going to get better?”- the answer is yes. The next blog post will be focused on the path to recovery: the stages of healing, how to cope while you’re recovering, and healing through the twelve steps of Exaholics.

DM me on Instagram @onceuponatimeonhinge with questions, comments, or just to discuss this post further!

Get Your Breakover On

I recently read an amazing self-help book titled, It’s Called a Breakup Because It’s Broken by Greg & Amira Behrendt (the same authors that wrote He’s Just Not That Into You. Instead of making this a book review or recommendation (I know most of my readers don’t have time for that) I am just going to summarize my takeaways.

First of all, as the title states, it’s called a breakup because it’s broken. Even though it hurts like hell and frightening questions will be swirling through your brain at a million miles an hour (Why did it end? What could I have done differently? How can a relationship just break with no warning? Did I sabotage it? Is he thinking about me? Does he miss me? Will I meet someone else? Will we get back together? What harm can one text do? etc.), the first step to getting over a breakup is ACCEPTANCE. This is going to hurt. For a while. There is no quick fix for the sting of heartbreak and it is hard not to take it personally. But just because the relationship is broken doesn’t mean YOU are broken.

A point addressed in the book that I would like to reiterate here is an answer to a question I get asked on Instagram a lot: “It’s been a while since the breakup, why does it still hurt?” For many, it seems as though time is standing still. The bullshit coined in “Sex and the City” that it takes half the time of a relationship to get over it is simply incorrect. The truth is that there is no formula one can apply to the heart. I think the time it takes to feel better about a breakup is directly proportional to the time it takes to feel better about yourself. I also think a component of lingering heartbreak is what I like to refer to as “Revisionist Romance Disorder” (RRD). RRD causes one to rewrite their relationship to match the feelings they want to have about it. The guy that wouldn’t introduce you to his friends becomes “just closed off”. The one that always kept you at arms length “just had intimacy issues”. The one that forgot your birthday was “just busy with work”. If you truly want to move on, you have to stop rewriting the past and see the relationship for what it was: the good and the bad, the ups and the downs, and to put aside feelings of embarrassment or shame about how the relationship ended to allow yourself to accept the loss of something that simply wasn’t a fit or a match. It was not meant to be because it isn’t. If it was so great, you’d still be together.

The best news here is that there are steps you can take to turn this breakup into a breakover. Below are the Seven Breakover Commandments that will allow you to channel your heartbreak into the most important person you know: yourself.

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1. DON’T SEE HIM OR TALK TO HIM FOR SIXTY DAYS

When someone quits an addictive drug, there is a withdrawal period while the body detoxes and gets the toxins out of their system. The same goes for broken relationships. Sixty days will give you the emotional distance necessary for total recovery. I am not saying this commandment will be simple, I texted my ex less than a week after a breakup and it felt like it had been a lifetime. However, realistically, the only way to avoid torturing yourself with reminders of your ex is to take him out of the picture and cut off all contact.

I know what you’re thinking: I can’t do this. But guess what, you can. You can because you have no choice. At some point he will stop taking your calls or meet someone else. So choose the option that allows you to feel good about your choices from this day forward. Why should you want to talk to the person who broke your heart anyway? What does tormenting yourself get you? Does the momentary relief of hearing his voice make up for the reinforced rejection you feel with every phone call or meeting? In AA they say, “One day at a time”- so do just that. Buy a cute calendar and cross off every day that goes by with no contact initiated.

2. GET YOURSELF A BREAKUP BUDDY

First of all, shoutout to Naomi Scher and Tara Gold for being my breakup buddies. I would be lying in a puddle of my own tears on the side of the street if it weren’t for them.

I recommend picking a breakup buddy (or more) with the following qualities:

  1. Has at least mild knowledge of your relationship and the history
  2. Is a good listener (or good at pretending to be)
  3. Has free time during the day or night to talk to you should you need them
  4. Has been through a breakup as well
  5. IS NOT FRIENDS WITH YOUR EX

And, for those of you chosen as breakup buddies, here is a list of guidelines and thoughts for you to consider during your two months of servitude:

  1. It is not your job to fix this person. They’ll have to do that on their own, all you can do is give encouragement and advice.
  2. It’s okay to set limits, you have a life too.
  3. Make it fun- it’s okay to let them cry it out sometimes, but suggest fun activities to do together not only to distract the heartbroken, but so as not to drive you crazy.
  4. Patience, patience, patience. Your friend might not have a solid handle on their new single reality yet, and it might take a while.
  5. Share your experiences. From personal experience, having someone who has been guided out of the darkness and into the light gives me hope for the future.
  6. YOU ARE A FUCKING AMAZING FRIEND.

3. GET RID OF HIS STUFF AND THE THINGS THAT REMIND YOU OF HIM

I’m not going to elaborate too much on this one. I think its obvious why having his picture on your nightside table is a bad idea.

4. GET YOUR ASS IN MOTION EVERY DAY

When you are surrounded by empty hours with nothing to do but harp on your broken heart, you will not only start feeling sorry for yourself but could fall into a serious depression. When you feel the urge to crawl in a cave and cry, you need to get the fuck out of the house. The simple act of having someplace to be, surrounded by humanity, will do wonders for your sense of purpose. Don’t set goals that are too lofty (I’m not about to encourage signing up for a marathon), just make them small and attainable like sitting at Starbucks with a good book, or going to dinner or movie with a friend.

5. DON’T WEAR THE BREAKUP OUT INTO THE WORLD

Confidence looks good with everything. How you present yourself is a projection of what your life looks like. So take off your victim pants. You want to lean into the future where you are whole, healed, and the most badass version of yourself. Never leave the house wearing something that you wouldn’t want to run into your ex in. I’m not saying this in vanity, I’m saying it because it will make you feel like the old YOU again. The best revenge is living well, feeling good about yourself, and projecting those feelings out into the world.

6. NO BACKSLIDING

Well, I already wrote a post about this. Enough said.

7. IT WON’T WORK UNLESS YOU ARE NUMBER ONE

You have to learn to love yourself, like yourself, and put yourself first before you will ever find the healthy, loving, and lasting relationship you’re looking for and deserve. What does loving yourself mean? To me, loving yourself means feeling complete when you are on your own. There is nothing better than getting to a place where you really actually like yourself- not the idea of who you think you are, or who you want to become, but the imperfect, awesome, living soul reading this blog right now.

YOU GOT THIS. DM me @onceuponatimeonhinge with comments, questions, feedback, or if you need a breakup buddy.

Once Upon a Time on Hinge: The Beginning

One night, feeling particularly insecure about my two year relationship with my on-again, off-again, semi-exclusive, what-the-fuck boyfriend (we will call him J), I started posting Hinge content to my personal instagram account to do the only thing I knew how: make the motherfucker jealous. I would find prompts, rattle off witty responses, and post them to my stories. In addition to successfully rattling J, I also started getting pretty good feedback from my other followers about how funny my stories were. Eventually, enough people gave me the confidence to convince myself that I should create my own Instagram account solely devoted to Hinge content. I chose the name “Once Upon a Time on Hinge” because I loved the oxymoron of an antiquated phrase associated with romantic fairy tales being associated with content related to the most modern, and at times depraved form of courtship possible.

Eventually I started being reposted by much larger accounts, such as @unhingedny, and gained followers exponentially. J was semi-supportive of my new venture, although he muted my content because according to him, I was “spamming” his page.

Without getting into too many of the precipitating factors, when J asked to meet me for drinks on Tuesday, May 28, I had a pit in my stomach. We had been fighting a lot, and I had a strong feeling he was going to break up with me. The moment he sat down in front of me, I knew, and started bawling my eyes out (think Warner breaking up with Elle Woods in Legally Blonde… I was Elle). The break up itself was as pleasant as one could be. We both cried, said we loved each other, hugged for a long time, and then said goodbye for good.

I was crying in the Uber on the way home, and decided to share what had happened with a tearful video to my followers. My account is focused on dating, and something monumental had just occurred in my dating life. I have always wanted to cultivate a raw, real, and honest perspective on modern dating with my account, so I tearfully told my followers what had happened. To my absolute surprise, I immediately received hundreds of direct messages from followers, strangers, offering kind words of encouragement and love. I have never believed more in the good in humanity and the positive power of social media until that moment.

The nature of my account is naturally shifting further away from Hinge content (I am not ready to date again, at least not seriously, for the time being) to chronicles of post-breakup life. I am sure my account will continue to morph and change, but always in the most raw and authentic way possible.

So far, my account has taught me two very important lessons: (1) Chivalry is not dead (2) I might have to kiss a lot of frogs, but I will find my happily ever after.

Chivalry on the Subway

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Chivalry has never been my thing. Even when I was little and deeply invested in fairy tale Disney movies, I remember thinking that if I were in life-threatening danger, I wouldn’t want some Prince to come rescue me. I grew up with adults shouting “stranger danger!” to instill crippling fear and suspicion of basically anyone I had yet to encounter in my ripe 6 years of life. So: some dude tells me he wants to kiss me so that a “spell” can be broken? I’ll pass, creep. As I got older and started realizing that “Princes” are usually the ones us ladies need saving from in the first place, Law & Order: SVU became, and remains, my favorite fairy tale of all time.

Nonetheless, aside from the couple of times a year when various magazines declare “Chivalry is Dead!”, I never really think about the term. There was one time a couple of years ago, when I did that insane thing girls sometimes do and went on a first date. I dutifully noted throughout the entire night that he kept opening doors for me. Even if the door was out of his way, like my car door, he would zip around the car and open it. If there was no door, he would step aside and gesture with his arms that I walk in first, flight attendant style. On the ride home I observed, “You open doors a lot” (you can tell how great the conversation was flowing at this point). He asked if that was a problem and I said it wasn’t, it’s just kind of weird because I know how to open a door. And he said, “You’ve just never experienced chivalry like this”. Then I believe I told him that opening someone’s door is polite, not full-blown chivalrous, and he asked me if I was “one of those feminists”, and now we live happily after.

The next time I thought about chivalry was today, on the subway. Now, it should be noted that on NYC public transportation not only is chivalry dead, but so are all rules of human morality, ethics, and decency. The subway is to behavior what Twitter is to opinions: mayhem. So, to put it mildly, I don’t expect much “chivalry” whilst on the F train. This morning I was on a full train, but I boarded early enough to get a seat (such a rare occurance, it almost made me believe in God). Right before the doors closed, a very pregnant woman walked onto the train. Once we started moving I looked at the mostly men sitting around me, who could all clearly see the pregnant woman standing in front of us. “Excuse me, miss, do you want to sit?” As the words came out of my mouth I have to admit it felt odd. I fancy myself a feminist but kind of felt like I was saying what a guy should be saying. I’ve never called another girl “miss”. Before the woman could respond, the guy next to me stood up and proudly gestured towards his seat like a true gentleman… just as my flight attendant date did for little ol’ me. The girl sat down, turned to me, and said, I shit you not: “They open your door but god forbid they give up their damn seat on the subway.”

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I realized what chivalry really means, to me at least. It’s not being kind, or polite, or gentle, or helpful. It’s doing something that puts another person’s well-being before your own, possibly by sacrificing your own well-being, and without the promise or expectation of getting anything in return. So, chivalry is not a guy buying you dinner or opening your door. Trust me, he thinks he’s getting something out of it. Chivalry is altruism I guess… but that spirals into the philosophical debate of the existence of altruism, so let’s let that slide and just get to the bottom line:

Chivalry is giving up your damn seat on the subway.

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My Last Breakup

I had been seeing my new therapist for five months or so when I started thinking about the movie Pretty Woman.

The notion of paying someone in exchange for affection and understanding was unsettling, and yet unavoidable. I was drowning in my newly diagnosed mental illness and the myriad of issues that came with it. I was a shattered version of my former self when I walked into my new therapist’s office.

I knew from the moment I met her that my life was going to change. I can’t pinpoint what it was about her that made me see light after such a long period of excruciating darkness. Maybe it was that, just as Richard Gere looked at Julia Roberts like a person and not a prostitute, she looked at me like a person and not a patient. When I returned to my apartment after our first session I felt a pressing need to initiate lifestyle changes: I bought inspirational posters, made the decision to give up alcohol (I will be two years sober this September), joined a yoga class, and suddenly felt faith in my ability to construct a future. I no longer felt doomed.

I saw her two to three times a week, and told her things I had never even admitted to myself. I began suffering panic attacks as a result of confronting my own reality, and she bought me frozen eye masks, stress balls, and rubbing stones to help ease my pain. Logically, I knew she was just doing her job. Yet, it wasn’t long before I broke the proverbial “don’t kiss the prostitute on the lips” rule by uttering the words, “I genuinely think she loves me”. And I meant it. I am not one that lets people into my heart or my soul or my mind very easily. But my guards were down.

Nevertheless, she was my college therapist and I was due to graduate in December. The date loomed over every session as I would study her face, take in her mannerisms, and realize that the safety and security of this person that saved me from myself would soon be gone. We wouldn’t keep in touch on Facebook and I wouldn’t be able to stalk her Instagram… she was a medical professional that I hired to help me. In Pretty Woman Richard Gere says, “My special gift is impossible relationships”. I knew that that was what my therapist and I had: an impossible relationship. I just didn’t know what to do about it.

The months following the “termination of my treatment” were the most agonizing of my life. It felt as though I was hanging off of a cliff and the person who had been there to catch me for a year and a half was suddenly gone. I phoned her off and on in my darkest moments, until I realized I was not Richard Gere, and I couldn’t summon her into my life no matter how hard I tried. She was in Atlanta, I was in New Jersey, and it was over. There was no strut down Rodeo Drive in our future. Our arrangement was finished.

It has been six months since we have spoken, and I impulsively e-mailed her this morning on my way to work. Although I worried it would trigger dormant sadness to reach out, I needed to let her know that after all of this time, I am okay.

And, that my new therapist is great.

Personal Archives

My favorite thing to do when I come home for a few days is to look through the drawer in my bedroom that contains all of the things I wrote in high school. Sometimes I am amazed at how much I’ve grown as both a person and a writer, and other times I am shocked at how strangely poetic the simple way I viewed life as a teenager seems so many years later.

Tonight as I was going through the stack of papers on the floor of my bedroom,  I found a poem I wrote during my short-lived emo phase in 2009 (either inspired by Evan Rachel Wood in Thirteen, Kirsten Dunst in The Virgin Suicides, or Angela Chase). Other contributors to my teen angst: Edward Cullen had just started stirring up inner feelings I couldn’t quite articulate, I listened to Paramore on a loop, I dyed my hair black with red highlights, and had started memorizing Sylvia Plath’s poetry and reciting it to my family members (we’ve all been there, right guys?). Anyway, here is the poem entitled, “The Pursuit of the Sun”:

I woke up early, to see the sunrise.

My eyes were still tired, as I stood on my porch.

My eyes felt raw, I was blinded by the light.

I went back inside, and fell into a dream,

where my eyes were not swollen, and I saw the sun.

When I woke, I glared out of my window, and saw the moon.

————

The next night, my friend stood with me on the porch,

we had no trouble watching the simple moon.

We decided to wake up early, and watch the sunrise.

The next morning, we saw the tip of the sun,

but our eyes were puffy as we stood on the porch.

Why don’t I have trouble staring at the sunrise in my dream?

We went back inside, we were blinded by the light.

————

The next morning, I tried to resist the light.

It was easier to stare at the moon.

I went back inside, and in my dream,

I imagined myself running into the sunrise.

The next morning, I sat alone on the porch.

It was hopeless; I began to hate the sun- –

————

yes, I began to despise the sun.

How could anyone love that bright light?

The next morning, I wanted to give it one last chance on my porch.

I still hated the sun, I loved the moon.

Why should I strain to look at the sunrise?

I kept the sunrise in my dream.

————

That night, I saw the sun in my dream.

I decided it was impossible to really see the sun,

or the sunrise,

or the light.

But that night, I saw the moon.

I felt comfortable that night on the porch.

————

I fell asleep on the porch,

and had a nice dream.

It was not about the sun, it was about the moon.

I never even thought about the sun.

I began to hide from the light.

I began to fear the sunrise.

————

I miss those times sitting on my porch, looking at the sun.

I now only see light in a dream.

If I only had the strength to reach for the sunrise, instead of settling on the moon.

…well, besides sharing an extremely upbeat poem with all of you, the purpose of this post is to encourage all of you to keep a drawer of writing, art, pictures, etc. throughout your lifetime. I have laughed, cried (just moments ago at a beautiful letter my brother wrote me for my 18th birthday), and found insight when looking through my little drawer of memories. More often than not you will wind up being your greatest source of inspiration.

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