Relationships After Heartache

Summer is a funny season for me. Being raised in Naples, Florida meant that life was an endless amount of warm days, beach visits, and afternoon thunderstorms. To tell you the truth, I kinda, really, sorta, hated it. The only benefit of never-ending 70-80 degree weather was warmer Halloweens––I loved autumn, but I would have probably hated having to wear a jacket over my costume because it was freezing/snowing for trick-or-treating. I guess I was lucky that I could show off my costumes, but we still had to deal with hurricanes; there is the trade-off. Ever cry because you heard they were canceling Halloween because there were ample amounts of standing water and debris from the Hurricane that blew in the week before? No? Just me? (they didn’t cancel it, which means my mom and I grabbed a costume from Party City last minute, I was a ghost, and it was a laughable outfit, to say the least).

Now that I am older and get to decide my home, and by decide, I mean a place where there is a leaf-peeping opportunity close enough to drive to. But now, I find myself feeling more and more uncomfortable when the weather is ever over 70 degrees. Like it is right now in New York. However, I am so thankful August is around the corner.

Now, you may be wondering, “what does this have to do with being in a relationship after a heartache?” Well, one reason I now feel uncomfortable in summer is because of precisely that. For me, my heartbreaks happened in the summer. Now I didn’t pick this, but maybe that correlation/causation theory in psychology wasn’t wrong. Perhaps a spike in ice cream sales does cause murders, just as the stereotypical “uncuffing season” is summer. It makes sense to those people who think this is the time when you are meant to find a fling on your extended stay in the Hampton’s and leave the person you met in the winter behind.

After my previous relationship ended out of the blue in June, I have had a little PTSD surrounding the anxiety and depression I developed in 2017 deemed “the summer of heartache,” and I can see how it influences my now, current relationship. When I touch the month of June, I start over-analyzing my partner’s actions. I tell myself I am trying to be a bit more cautious this time around, you know “pay attention to what the relationship is needing” instead of focusing on what “I needed” as my ex so graciously taught me he valued more when it came to our relationship.

With all this being said, I can see how summer distances some couples. The first thing that pops into my head for a relationship is cuddling. In winter, when the windows are like the walls of an igloo and the heater is clanging, then well cuddle on! Intertwine those legs and wrap your arms around each other like a gift-wrapped beneath a tree. In summer? Forget that closeness. Sometimes even feeling the warmth of my partner’s thigh delicately rubbing against mine on the Subway is enough for my leg to start to sweat and my body temperature to feel like even more of a furnace.

I think, for myself at least, intimacy is so essential for me to feel comfortable in a relationship. It’s a subtle reminder that you are mine and I am yours (unless you cheat, and then well you suck, I’m sorry I am not sorry for saying that). And when I am trying to feel okay after heartache, and its the summer, and I am having flashbacks, the “not being intimate” and “sitting on opposite sides of the couch so you can feel the a/c at the precise position” are scenarios that make me feel insecure.

Luckily this is the second summer with my partner, and time definitely heals those insecurities, but Summer 2018 was definitely my crash course on relationships after heartache. See we had met in winter, lol, which meant we had four months before the hot, humid, and stinky garbage days sept into the streets when we walked around hand in hand. When it hit over 70 degrees, I felt my fear bubbling up like the heat index. We had distanced to the point my partner was unsure of our relationship. When he communicated that to me, at first, all I could think was, “here we go again, Depression.”

But something I learned about Summer 2017, the rollercoaster of a season, was I needed to love myself through the heartbreak. It was h.a.r.d. to limit my emotions to four simple letters. I was a mess: my eating, irregular, my resting heart rate, frantic, and mindset, troubled. I closed off from most but a select few friends. Then I moved. Then I started working towards myself and I was making new friends, I felt like everything was coming around. Then he got into a new relationship within two months of us ending (hello August downfall), and I was destructive. I was mad at him, so why was I taking it out on myself? 

It took time, over seven months for me to feel good dating again. It took six months of me sulking to say no to it all. I took the month of December, once all my finals were handed in, to pay attention to “me”. It was my best decision. I went on long walks while the snow fell and small flakes collected on my hair and hat. I would remember going to Trader Joes at night, explicitly walking through the tunnel of Christmas trees on 11th and 2nd Avenue and finding yummy, healthy food to cook for dinner. I was going to the Strand Bookstore and spending hours in the clearance book section outside, wearing gloves as my fingertips scanned the spines and gathered more novels to add to my ever-growing “read next” pile.

I listened to music that made me happy, wore face masks that rejuvenated my skin, and sat for hours on the couch watching Harry Potter. I was giving back to myself what I had taken away. I was doing everything I could to bounce back from the heartache. It wasn’t till 2018 when I met my current partner. For our first four months, we were the honeymoon stage and then some, but in the beginning, I was slightly hesitant about entering another relationship because the last thing I wanted was another six+ months of me sulking and binge drinking in New York.

Was he going to hurt me, like the other men did? He didn’t, hasn’t. When we got to the summer and got a bit more distanced, we were able to communicate. I heard his doubts about us and was able to sit and talk it out with him. Our future, our feelings, and our frustrations came out. I had never been able to do that with my past relationship; heartbreak taught me that. 

I think it takes time. If you were in love with someone else, and that love has stopped existing, then I think it’s worth you taking the time to reposition the love you were giving to them and give it back to yourself.  I think you know when it’s an excellent time to enter another relationship. **Mind you my ex’s rebound that caused my August Downfall only lasted a few months, so if you are into breaking up with people often, then maybe skip over the refractory period like he did, but if you are like me and care about people’s feelings, care about yourself first. 

After heartache, care about yourself because you deserve it, dating and caring about others after that will follow in due time.

Driving Across the Country

Yes, you read that correctly. Together, my partner and I voluntarily embarked on a cross-country road trip in a rental car from our apartment in New York City to Spokane, Washington; a 2,600-mile excursion.

Firstly, before I explain the adventure, we need to circle back to December 2018 which is when we first discovered the two of us were capable of one, driving a car since our relationship solely lived within the confines of a carless relationship in Manhattan, and two that we had previously completed a 21-hour drive within a 24-hour rental window.

See during Christmas, flights to Florida, let alone Naples, Florida, are outrageous. So, being the young adults we are, we felt it was worth saving 600 dollars if it means we could rent a car for 120 dollars and get there in a day.

As it was a success, we found ourselves planing for our Summer vacation. We were just in Washington the month prior, however, we were heading back for a family trip with my partners extended relatives. I was, and still, jobless, so finances were a bit tight, but something I really wanted to do was see my friends in Colorado.

It has been three years since I was back in Boulder, Colorado. I flew out for a majority of my friend’s graduation, but it felt like a lifetime had passed since I was living there amongst the foothills. Showing my partner, my home in Naples was priceless.

Side note: I don’t think he fully understands what it meant to take him to my favorite spots, show him my schools, and introduce him to my local friends. I felt in the past relationships I had, I had to plead to have my lovers visit and still I was left with heartache in the wake of my pleas, so it felt indescribable to have him by my side. 

To reiterate, I know this one is a keeper because last summer we went to Germany. And obviously, we know how to plan showstopper summer vacations, but I am honestly eternally grateful to have met someone that appreciated exploring new lands alongside my anxious, antsy, anal travel habits.

He was the one to suggest driving. This time around, it wasn’t any cheaper to drive vs. fly, but a stop in Colorado meant a lot more money. We were going to need a rental car there, so we were going to need to pay more on top of the cost of flying. Luckily we were able to break up the trip into digestible bites.


New York, NY to Chicago, IL: The Pricier Leg

My Brother graciously offered up his couch, as he has for the past four years at his apartment and allowed my gang of hooligan friends and partners crash at his place for every time I planned a trip to the area. We planned to leave at 10:00am, however, knowing it was a 13-hour drive, we decided to change the rental to 8:00am so we would make it in time to catch dinner and a drink with my brother.

It was the lesser of picturesque drives and had THE MOST tolls, one being 15 dollars, but it was the shortest days. We had all of our energy in front of us as we took to the open roads of New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois. We learned we have minimal interest in moving to a mid-western city, but can very easily find a way to pass the time with luxurious rest stops and car games.

Chicago, IL to Boulder, CO: The 24-hour Challenge

After an “active” evening in Wrigleyville, we stuck to our timing of leaving my brother’s place at 5:00am. The friend I was staying within Colorado just had a baby in April, so I wanted to be courteous to their fragile sleep-schedule, as well as catch them when they were all still awake since it had been so long since I had seen her last. We hit the open roads, and a few more tolls, and headed for the Rockies.

We were tired, I struggled to stay awake in the beginning and were struggling with the various on-ramp highway and frequent exits as we left Chicago––fighting to get across seven lanes of traffic was not something either of us wanted to do that early in the morning. But, luckily the sprawling fields of Iowa and Nebraska made for comfortable cruise controlled rides and afternoon naps. We were delayed for a bit in Nebraska when we hit bumper to bumper traffic, slowing us for an hour in the hottest stretch of land with rumbling tummies, but rolling into the mountains of Colorado, and arriving at my friend’s home with Indian food and a babies waiting for us made the difference.

Boulder, CO to Spokane, WA: The Scenic Route

Now, we both knew the fastest way to our destination would have been going from Illinois to Minnesota, North Dakota, Montana, but because I wanted a day to catch up with some college besties, then we decided to make the trip a little longer to hit more scenic spots. We woke up earlier, again, to ensure we made it to Yellowstone during the daytime. Before we could leave Colorado, we had to stop at Santiago’s. If you haven’t been, you need to go. My favorite breakfast was their burrito, on bacon day, with half-n-half sauce; it’s not spicy and not too mild.

This leg was the longest, but also the one with all the firsts. This was my first time in Wyoming and Montana and my first time in Yellowstone National Park. It was so worth the four extra hours and 200 miles to drive through the park, and we left with a year pass for a chance to visit more in the country. Driving along the Grand Tetons, which are pictured above, was spectacular. I saw Old Faithful blow boiling water into the air and Bison graze on the grass outside my passenger side door.

We made it to northern Montana before midnight, which meant we had several hours to nap before our 8:00am deadline. It was the first time I had slept in a rest stop and boy was it cold in Montana at 3:00am, but I wouldn’t change seeing the sunset and sunrise over Montana’s Rockies.


By the end of the trip, we were sleep-deprived, stinky, and disoriented from time changes, but it was such a fantastic experience. I highly recommend grabbing a friend you can spend hours talking to without eating and embark on a trip around the US!  Take a look at the playlist we played on repeat and our mapped journey below.

 

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NYC Bedroom

Sometimes I miss my old room.

There was a quaintness that came to waking up every morning to some exposed brick and the sunlight drenching the white curtains hanging in the window and ivory sheets that cloaked my body. There was an elegance that came with cozying up in my emerald green, crushed velvet chair that sat in the corner and became my nook for writing, reading, and studying.

I am looking forward to making this new bedroom even more exciting, although it is smaller, but a new home for myself in the coming year. As this new place is a work in progress, enjoy some interior inspo from my last place and enjoy a sneak peek to the way I incorporate the past into my new space!

Life as a Master

If money wasn’t an issue, where would I be? 

For months now, I’ve been planning the reboot of my blog. I thought about what I’d write after spending the past months writing my own novel. And any day I became excited about starting over, letting go of my previous dreams and really pushing the other ones I was dreaming up, but I froze. I thought about blog ideas, hundreds of them, but never followed through with a single one.

I looked at my blog nearly every day as I applied to more and more jobs, saying I had blogging experience, which is true, but felt like I had abandoned the first platform I had to produce work I was proud of.

Until the other day while I sat in Central Park in complete isolation. For 30 minutes, only a mother and daughter passed my area, but they turned and walked deeper into the brush. Across the way, I would see tanned faces and colorful shirts flick through the leaves on the sidewalk parallel to the one I rested my feet on, but no one seemed to ever find their way towards me.

I had needed a break that day. I had spent the most part of that afternoon sulking in my jobless stupor, putting myself in a box of being too tired of not having a job, but not working hard enough on trying to fix it. For the first month outside of my grad school graduation, I applied to a few, putting myself out there and looking for something new. The next month I was shooting blanks out into the universe. Applying to jobs I’m overqualified for, attending cold-call interviews, and being unhappy with the results I was staring down.

Except for one; I had a phone interview with a company and job I was perfect for, however, they picked someone else before I even had a shot at interviewing. I was sad, hopeless, and trying to ground myself in some mentality that was telling me I was no good for any job apparently.

The position was an editorial assistant for the psychology and humanities department at a publishing house. If you don’t know, I have my bachelors in psychology, and I just received my Masters in Humanities. For the job, all you needed was a bachelors degree and Microsoft experience— how could I not be a shoo-in for the position? I’ve gone beyond and received my masters, I wrote a book for my thesis, have experience in the editorial world and book industry, yet there I was on Friday receiving an email saying they went with someone else.

So that day, in the thick brush of Central Park, turned to my bench and noticed the plaque behind me. It was a poetic verse: welcoming the world to sit for a moment, enjoy the serenity in the quietness of the breeze, and look for the light.

How sweet it was to sit somewhere and take a moment to forget my stress. Then I thought, what a great memory to purchase. I wondered what it would be like to have a bench here and commemorate my time here. I thought about the unveiling of it, bring my lover, and family to sit and enjoy a space I loved to enjoy. Would I put it near the Zoo? Somewhere I loved to people watch. Or would I put it by the Great Lawn, the area I first found the confidence to run again after my ankle surgery? I know, I would put it in the brush, tucked away for only a few to find, but me to know exactly where it was when I needed quiet time.

Would I follow in the footsteps of this mystery person and write something poetic about nature, or would I devote it to something I loved? I started fantasizing about what I would put it as The Adopt-A-Bench program loaded. Then I realized a bench plaque would set me back 10,000 dollars. As someone hiding out in Central Park trying to avoid my fears of not making enough money in this city, I was sitting on a bench that someone felt comfortable in their income to give more of it away; a lot more.

At first, I was sad. I was immediately reminded that I couldn’t donate a chair unless I score a book advance significant enough to pay off my student loans, supply me with rent, and living wage so I could then afford a silver plaque for people to either admire or never even read–– I’d say a million would be reasonable. I was sad but then thankful to be somewhere that made me happy if it wasn’t for the money.

It had been a while when I last thought about being happy where I was. I remember feeling so uncomfortable in New York when I first moved here. By recognizing that it showed me that my experience in this city is continually evolving. I was happy enough, even in the stress of a job hunt, to commemorate my time here. That was something I never sat and thought about during all of my anxiety.

I spent so much time for so long thinking I didn’t belong; that it was time to move on to another place for another part of my journey. I can write this post and not be sad because I have found a way to make money and have interviews for more job, and even though my hunt is not over, I still am trying; I am always hopeful the situation will turn around. It has taken a moment to remember where I started in New York. I was reminded that at times, I may feel stressed as I try to keep up with the fun and work of the city. But had you asked the Hannah that moved here roughly two years ago if she even considered buying a plaque in Central Park to commemorate her time, she would have said “no way” this place doesn’t deserve it.

Let’s see what “author Hannah” has to say when shes sitting on a couple book deals and a film request (:

Also if you are looking to hire for a position, I am totally available to start ASAP!