When I wrote the first poem in this collection, it was a week before Christmas and I was freshly heartbroken. The abrupt ending to what I had thought was the perfect relationship left me utterly devastated. I felt displaced, shocked, and completely disconnected not only from myself, but from everyone around me. I had been through nasty breakups before, but nothing compared to this. I spent hours a day on the phone with friends replaying every single moment of our relationship. 

As I began to divulge the nitty gritty details, friends began expressing concerns for me and questioned if our relationship was ever truly healthy. The more they tried to get through to me, the more I rebelled against the idea he was a facade. And even worse, that our story was completely fake. I spent weeks and months drinking myself to sleep, isolating from friends and family, and laying in bed all hours of the day. I had no motivation whatsoever. Anytime I tried to force myself up, it felt like dragging my legs through wet cement. I had no desire to read, to watch TV, but especially to write. Putting on paper how I was feeling those first two months felt like accepting the death of us. And as he began reaching out, attempting to “work things out,” I couldn’t accept what I was beginning to realize as truth – that he wasn’t who he portrayed himself to be.

He began admitting to his infidelities, and stopped trying to hide that he was actively cheating on me. I spent another four months after our breakup in this vicious cycle with him. Once I began to write about how I was feeling, the cracks in our relationship became clearer. I was able to see how cruel he was, how manipulative he was, and how eventually, I began to question my perception and my self-worth.

I vividly remember sitting in my therapist’s office, yelling about how I’d hit my breaking point and I couldn’t sit around and wait on him to change. I knew I needed to end things, and as much as it broke my heart all over again, I dug into the last reserve of my strength and called him. Our relationship ended in nine minutes. It was bittersweet that the last 10 months had been reduced to a brief phone call. One where he was apathetic and dismissive. I found out a few weeks later he was already in another relationship and “in love.” I was hurt all over again, but instead of letting it drag me back under, I began writing even more.

It helped release every pent up, unspoken emotion. Reading the collection from start to finish shows readers a realistic, raw example of the arc of grief. This collection is extremely personal and vulnerable, but I’m hoping that by sharing, women who have experienced similar situations can resonate and feel less alone. When I was going through the worst of my pain, it was through relating to others that contributed towards replenishing my inner strength. It helped me begin to let my support system in again, and made me fall in love again with my greatest passion – weaving powerful stories that celebrate grief, heartbreak, and the resiliency and bravery of women.