The Pain Of Getting Dumped Is Always Worth It
Let’s talk about getting dumped. No, not by that jerk you were hooking up with for a couple of weeks, and not by that flighty friend that finally stopped answering your texts. I mean dumped: brutally and unapologetically dropped and disconnected from something you were sure was yours.
The relationship that was built out friendship and love and taco wrappers and all the other beautiful things that come with trusting someone with your hopes and your heart, but then you woke up one morning to a two-line text and a million unanswered questions.
The friendship that made you think that you had finally, after years of frustration and mismatched personalities, found someone who really understood you, accepted all your flaws, cared about your fears and totally agreed that Taco Del Mar was far superior to Taco Bell (haters to the left), until they just didn’t anymore and left you holding two Taylor Swift tickets feeling like you’d never quite shake it off.
The job that you had been working towards day after day, putting in the hours and being nice to all the right people, even volunteering to be DD at the office Christmas party which was not easy because everyone knows how Sammy loves his whiskey, only to have it yanked all away at the last second and see someone else sitting in the cushy chair in the corner office that you’d already mentally hung your Patrick Swayze poster in.
Getting dumped, by people, by positions, even by your dentist, is kind of the worst. First you’re sad, then you’re confused, then maybe for a little while you get a satisfying flame of anger, before it burns out and you’re left in this limbo state of late-night Facebook stalking and early morning text message rereading and Googling things you really don’t need to know (what is Sawyer from “Lost” doing nowadays and is he still rocking the man bun), while trying to figure out where you go from here and how you fill the oddly shaped space that only the thing that’s gone knew how to fill.
I have been dumped many times. Once by a boy I thought really loved me, lots of times by friends I thought were my soul-sisters, and more than a few times by jobs and bosses and directors that just didn’t want what I was bringing to the table. Every time it happens, I do the same things, in the same order, with generally the same results.
First I cry, scream, punch pillows and blast angry ’90s pop until my eyes are dry and my voice is raw and my pillows are deflated and sad.
Then I sleep. I sleep a lot, and dream a lot, and then wake up to eat and then sleep some more. Then when I’m rested, and a little less blurry than I was before, I watch the movie, the one that all the other breakup movies wish they could hang out with: “Legally Blonde”. And then, after I watch Elle take down all the doubters and get back her pink-pattered groove, I say to myself, “Hey! If Elle Woods can get into Harvard and take down a murderer and rock a bunny suit, I can do anything I damn well please!” I stop Googling Josh Holloway and start Googling jobs and internships and scholarships and all the other kinds of ‘ships that’ll get me back on the horse and out of the Hot Pocket mountain that has become my home.
My most productive and life-changing self-improvement has been born from the ashes of my deepest embarrassments and disappointments. So far, every dump has yielded something, even if it’s just a tiny victory, that has made me realize that whatever life I had made for myself in my mind didn’t really belong to me and never could. The lovers that leave you and the friends that fade away never really had your best interests at heart; they were never yours and you were never theirs, and whatever moments and cakes you shared were meant to make you stronger and teach you a lesson you didn’t know you needed.
The problem is that you never realize it until you’ve already done the thing and made the change and you’re looking back on the dumping, and you’re laughing and smiling at how hard it was and how much it hurt… and how much you needed it to get to where you are today.
The middle part, where you’re doing the work and taking the chances and meeting the people who want to be with you and want to hear what you have to say — that’s the magic part. That’s the post-dump glow that you never feel but always appreciate once you’re killing it at your new job or smooching the new bae. Getting dumped can be the best thing to ever happen to you if you can lean in and let the feelings and the failures move you forward.
Self-improvement doesn’t always happen when you want it to. Sometimes you need a good kick in the teeth and a smack on the booty to make you realize how unhappy you’ve been and how much you have to give to the world that keeps trying to knock you down. The next time you’re dumped, try to find the middle-magic: the unexpected triumph that comes from letting go (albeit hesitantly) of what you thought you wanted and letting your skill, strength, hopes and dreams steer you away from the wreckage and towards the horizon where the pretty mermaids swim and the dolphins jump and high five in your honor.
The future is bright, and though your heart may be heavy, future you is going to thank present you for all the cool things you did when you thought you couldn’t do anything right.
