Rebel Hearts Heal Differently

Summary

The web content is a poignant personal essay titled "Rebel Hearts Heal Differently" that explores the five stages of healing from heartbreak through free verse poetry.

Abstract

"Rebel Hearts Heal Differently" is an evocative narrative by Brandon Vaughan that delves into the intense emotional journey following a painful breakup. The essay is structured into five acts, mirroring the stages of grief, and describes the raw and visceral experience of heartbreak. It begins with the shock and sickness of lost love, progresses through anger and bargaining, moves into a period of acceptance and self-care, and culminates in a rebirth of the self, free from the chains of the past relationship. The author uses vivid imagery and metaphor to convey the depth of his emotional turmoil and the eventual path to healing and liberation.

Opinions

The author initially bought into the illusion of eternal love, which shatters, leading to a profound sense of loss and betrayal.
Heartbreak is likened to a physical ailment, with symptoms affecting both the gut and the heart, and is described as a "heart sickness."
The essay conveys the importance of self-compassion and the need to avoid negative self-talk during the healing process.
The author expresses intense emotions, including rage and despair, and the struggle to find enjoyment in previously pleasurable activities, such as watching movies or eating pizza, that remind him of his former partner.
The process of healing is not linear; it involves moments of intense pain followed by gradual acceptance and the rediscovery of one's own identity and worth.
The author emphasizes the necessity of feeling the pain fully and resisting the urge to dissociate, as this is part of the healing process.
The essay suggests that true healing comes when one no longer cares about the person who caused the heartbreak, symbolizing a complete release from the past.
The final stage of healing is depicted as a transformative experience, where the individual emerges stronger, embracing their newfound freedom and the possibilities it brings.

Heartbreak in Five Acts

Photograph by Author (Brandon Vaughan); taken in the War Room. Eugene, OR. 2024 1. The Rebel Angel Falls I bought into the lie. I would have done anything for her. More than ever before, I wanted us to make it. To be together, final and eternal. Hope vanishes. Shit floats. Some call this heartbreak. Heartache. I call it heart sickness. Mola Ram plucked the battered rogue's heart from my chest. I've been sacrificed again. Broken and discarded. Abandoned and forlorn. Pieces of my once mighty wings fluttering to earth. Nothing has ever hurt like this. Yet I acquiesce, dancing familiar. Symptoms likely will manifest primarily in the gut and heart. I experienced something akin to a plummeting elevator; it dropped from my chest to my sphincter. I threw up passionately. I licked up my discharge. Lapped my bike with filthy, crushed hands. After an uncomfortable loss of equilibrium, I wobbled and swayed. Holding myself upright became difficult. I fell face-first onto my bed, falling into a cinema reel of painful surface dreams. My knees weakened, which is funny because they were weak at the beginning and end of us. Butterflies in my gut kamikazed into my bowels, desiccated wreckage in the cemetery. Strong, invisible fingers poked and jabbed my heart. Once the crying begins, there will be little respite. My tears become heavy, etching permanent fire lines in my cheeks. I am Alice, carried helplessly by my own tears through the Looking Glass. Be kind to yourself (and others). Show yourself compassion. Avoid negative self-talk. You're not a loser. You're not broken. You're not unlovable. There is no shame in any of this. 2. Heartsick. Complete loss of appetite. Inconsistent levels of sleep, interest, and energy. Bitter, jilted rage bubbles in the bullet. Bloody streams in the seawater called the requiem sharks. Pulverized sailors drawn by siren songs. Dumb shit reminds me of her (awww, she loved pineapple/pepperoni pizza; this song; this movie). In turn, this directly and adversely affects decisions. Botflies hatch in her putrid lies. Fuck this stupid song and the idiot singing it. Fuck that movie. Fuck pizza. Fuck love. I can't even enjoy porn. I miss the sex. I miss the passion. I miss looking into her eyes while she orgasms. I lose interest in porn. Jerking off loses its allure. It's humiliating and pathetic to start crying mid-masturbation. Sobbing becomes intermittent hiccups and body spasms. I say stupid shit like: “I Can't Do This.” Or “Please Don't Leave Me.” Praying on my knees, hands folded reverently I barter, plead, bargain, and threaten God. “I'll Do Anything, Just Come Back To Me Baby!’ In these moments, it's critical to feel the pain. Remain in the moment as long as possible. This raw feed is actually the opening stage of healing. Endure biochemical reactions. Ignore flights of fancy. Avoid dissociation. Be kind, compassionate, and gentle with yourself. You're hurting, and require heavy doses of self-care. 3. Acceptance. This may feel like the third month of being sick in bed. Expect lethargy, persistent catatonic moments, and a strong urge to dissociate entirely. Your appetite is still weak, waxing and waning between sudden mood shifts. Porn is halfway tolerable. Expect to nap often. Sleep may become repulsive and also seem divine. You'll notice you're painfully aware of time. You'll waste less time wondering about them. Thoughts of them will become nuisances; you'll involuntarily swat them away like insects at a barbecue. Eventually, you'll wander outside to check the mail, walk the dog, or just absorb fresh air. Maybe you'll notice the sour stench of your own body odor. Mirror glances may motivate you to shave off your depression beard, brush your teeth, and apply deodorant. Evening can be difficult. Try to calm your codependent horses. Whether or not they miss you won't matter anymore. They will be less important, occupying less of your brain. You'll experience tremendous highs and lows. Understanding why this happened no longer consumes you. Closure is unlikely and unimportant. You'll probably stop creating pathetic reasons to see them. It's over. They're gone. You are never going to be together again. Life will carry on, regardless of your feelings. It has to, and so must you. 4. Aftercare: Take lengthy showers. Even if you don't feel like it. You'll feel better immediately, reborn. Washed in the blood of the Lamb. Cleansed like car fenders in an emotional carwash. You'll still cry, but with less pain. Heart sickness turns into homesickness. Only then can we analyze what that actually means. Bouts of sobbing decrease in amount and intensity. Count your wasted days. Future afternoons line up like railway box cars. Flee long shadows chasing you from dusk's embrace. My memories of her are gross exaggerations. Syrupy daydreams on teacher in-service days. Perfect, beautiful moments that never existed. Glimpses of what I'd wished for. An unfulfilled Amazon wish list. Feel what you must. Own it. Remain present for this experience. Remember to breathe. Forget to exhale. Be kind to yourself. Eat some ice cream. Make some art. Resist contacting them. Break those soul ties. Cut the trauma bonds with a machete. 5. Someday Eventually you'll wake one morning without them on your mind. Your heart will take its last personal day. Laughter will replace anguish. You'll rediscover fragrant flowers, sunsets, and social activities. Perhaps you'll pursue healthier coping skills, entertain new acquaintances, and resume your journey alone. One day, you won't give a shit about the person who broke your heart. You'll dismiss attempts at reconciliation. Ignore their pending friend request. . Become a chaotic neutral force. Born again strong Proudly flex-mended wing. Tear loose every stitch; rip away filthy bandages. When the sun reflects from every scar, it will blind the world. Rise like screams from the Lake of Fire. Your mirror reflection will smile back. Call out at work. Tell your corporate Pharaohs to earn a paycheck for once. Take your rightful place amongst the stars. Atomize. Fragments social bonds. Destroy every fucking construct. Wave to history as it chooses new timelines. Apply the Golden Ratio. Pick wildflowers and hand them to saucer-eyed maidens. There is no one at fault here. No more blame to assign. You're free. Dance wildly in meadows and haunted hollows, blissfully aware of songs only you can hear. Remember we don't "lose" people; we return them. Nothing and no one belongs to us.

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Rebel Hearts Heal Differently

Heartbreak in Five Acts

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