My boyfriend broke up with me on New Year's Day. Here's how I got over it

Anna is a thirty-something writer who got dumped on New Year's Day, exactly month before they were to start a life together. Six months later, she surprised even herself when she woke up feeling so over it. Here, she tells how she got over the breakup and moved on.

The details don’t matter now. That we met in the most "Before Sunset" adaptation in Asia manner as possible; that we were acquaintances for a year before anything romantic developed, that we made a long distance relationship work.

If I ever find enough time and stamina, maybe I’ll write it all into a movie. But for now, there is this. A chronicle of a breakup that I never saw coming — and how I managed to move on.

I did not offer any argument and I did not bargain. Largely, I think, it was out of pride: Why would a feminist, an empowered woman like myself beg for a man to stay, and to not leave her, and to not walk away?

He broke up with me on the 1st of January. Yes, New Year’s Day. It happened over Skype, but to be fair, he said he wanted to talk to me in person, face to face, to deliver this decision, which was not til a month a way.

It was a month that I had previously looked forward to because he was finally going to start his new life here, in the Philippines, with me.

I told him: “Just tell me now. Let’s get this over with.” So he did.

I managed to hold back sobs as he said his piece. Then, just like they taught us in debate class, I delivered my rebuttal, addressing his points one by one. I think I won the argument. But the triumph that accompanies winning was not what I felt. After 18 months of mostly long-distance, we were over.

I cried nonstop for two days my sobs racking my entire torso. I felt dehydrated, but thankful it happened during the New Year holiday break. By the time, I went back to work, I was more in control of my faculties, looking pretty much like I always do.

I think it was on the second day back at work when someone asked me how my boyfriend was, and I began to tear up a little when I simply said: “I don’t have one anymore.”

My parents and sister, who had met him on both times that he had visited, kept a safe distance. They asked me how I was but did not pry. They let me alternate between being catatonic and giving in to short bouts of crying.

The sound of the ringing of WhatsApp was intolerable at first. It triggered memories of happier times when the sound meant I would have a lengthy conversation with him, though he was several timezones away.

Now, my phone was silent, and my there was a pinch at my heart when I heard someone else’s WhatsApp ringing.

I sent messages to some of my closest friends to tell them the “news”. I met with one who mostly just listened to my ramblings while we ate Hunan food. I met another, while we had ice cold beer with our shawarma.

Out of the blue, I would message one friend or the other, with thoughts on one more negative thing about him, confirming that I had done the right thing. I also had friends who would recall episodes to me that proved I should really have left the relationship earlier.

I never had the idea of searching for and finding “The One”. Early on, I realized that one can be attracted to and get along well with any number of persons. I believe that having a relationship is a conscious decision and takes effort.

I guess the fact that this was the first time that anyone had ever taken the serious step of leaving his life and crossing several datelines to be with me was what made this breakup hurt. In a way, that I felt it was a failure on my part.

Some extended family members who, upon hearing from me what happened, simply said: “Move on, he doesn’t deserve you.” Or even: “You’re strong, you’ll get over this.”

I felt like a bumbling idiot whenever I would recount my breakup story, because however hard I tried, I ended up crying: my voice cracking then drowning in the tears that kept falling from my eyes. It was painful to walk the same route to work because he had walked me there twice.

I never once thought of getting angry or blaming or questioning God. This was all on me. I prayed hard and asked God to please, let me recover fast.

And then I resumed my regular yoga practice; there is healing that proper breathing and meditation brought, right?

Within the first month, I looked through old messages from friends who had invited me to their provinces. I had put them off and decided to reconnect. As a result, I was able to go to Catanduanes and Siquijor, and back to Dumaguete and Zamboanga City. And even better, I was able to spend quality time with friends I had not seen in many years.

I replaced memories of “us” in certain places with happy and more recent memories with close friends and family. I figured if we had a nice meal, I could hold on to that most recent memory to associate with the place, otherwise, there would be few restaurants I could go back to. I went to Taal with family, then went again with friends, replacing in my mind and my photos, him with them.

I also resumed venturing out on my own. I had always liked watching a movie and dining out alone. I “dated” myself again. I also had more time to go back to organizing small-scale volunteer activities from which I have always found fulfillment.

I counted my blessings, so many of them, that a life with that guy pales in comparison. Now, I could appreciate why we could not yet find a property to invest in, why we needed more finances to start a local business, why it was necessary to work more and therefore, save more.

Five months after, I was with a friend and we bumped into a guy he knows who was in town for something work-related, a good-looking French guy whom I found him genuinely attractive and interesting.

It was a fleeting encounter of a few minutes and I never saw him again. I didn’t attempt to keep in touch either. But that my heart actually fluttered for someone else surely meant something. What I thought was numb and dead was...alive again? 

I confirmed that I was on the road to recovery.

Just last week, I recounted the breakup episode to a friend, and I went from start to finish with dry eyes and steady voice. I was surprised to hear myself end the story with: “I’m okay now.”

I paused, questioning and quizzing myself. And then: I really was. I really am happy, genuinely happy.

One of my favorite movie quotes is from “Some Kind of Wonderful”, a dialogue between the characters of Lea Thompson (Amanda) and Mary Stuart Masterson (Watts), when Amanda says “I’d rather be with someone for the wrong reasons than alone for the right.” Watts responds: “I’d rather be right.”

I have always been a quirkyalone—a person who enjoys being single or spending time alone — and so prefers to wait for the right person to come along rather than dating indiscriminately; relishing equal doses of solitude and friendship; attracted to freedom and possibility.

Besides, I haven't and didn't set a deadline for myself about life events, in the sequence of getting married, having a baby, having a baby, then growing old. I trust God will direct me through events in my life.

I look forward to many different adventures to domestic and international destinations, soon Bacolod and Kuala Lumpur, then possibly back to Europe.

For me, the end was only the beginning — and a confirmation that I’ll be alright and I am all right.

I lost more than 100 lbs in nine months — LA, GMA News