The Places You’ll Grow
How ending a five-year relationship helped my journey to find self-love.
Story by Lucille Giaccio
All of our memories now sit in an orange Nike shoebox in the back of my closet. Polaroids from our trip to Florida, my corsage from prom, our first Valentine’s Day card, along with ticket stubs, pictures and other holiday cards fill the cardboard space.
Being in a relationship for five years made me adopt characteristics of my partner. We had the same type of humor and the phrases they said became ingrained in my vocabulary.
Their interests became mine and our realities were intertwined. We watched the same movies, enjoyed the same food and had the same friends.
Everything felt like it was ours, and because we were not together anymore, the music we listened to, the places we went and the apartment we shared made me feel as if something were missing.
Without this other person around, I realized just how little I actually knew about myself. I didn’t know if I only liked the things I watched and the music I listened to because of them.
This was an isolating feeling.
I met my partner in high school and my growth was shaped by them. How can I be my own person if I grew up influenced by another?
With this one change in my life, everything turned upside down.
I’ve always heard college is where you find your true self, and with graduation on the horizon, I had a sinking feeling I wasted my time.
The first week after our breakup was spent scrambling. I pushed off school, ignored what my body needed and shut out the world.
Everything reminded me of us.
I left Bellingham, Washington and moved back to my hometown hoping a change of scenery would help the grieving process. But after you’ve been in a long-term relationship, the shared memories are woven into everything.
I couldn’t go to my favorite sushi restaurant or drive by my high school without an empty feeling washing over me.
After the breakup, I wanted to give up on school and my motivation plummeted. Finishing my senior year at Western Washington University felt unattainable. I knew I didn’t want that for myself, and so I began to build my happiness up again. I was able to learn how capable I was at handling life when things seemed impossible.
Melissa Tarabochia, my mom, brought up the idea of moving away from Washington.
“I thought that a change of scenery would be a good thing,” my mom said. “I think it’s easier to get over a heartache when you aren’t bumping into all the places and people that bring back memories.”
She suggested I live with my cousin in Austin, Texas until the end of the school year. I could focus on finishing remote school at Western and heal from heartbreak with less distractions.
“I also felt that by going to Austin you had a better chance of ending your senior year with a bang rather than a fizzle,” my mom said. “Between COVID-19 and the breakup, you were missing out on a lot of things.”
After a 24-hour period weighing my options, I decided to seize the opportunity.
Despite my cousin and I being 20 years apart in age and being at different stages in our lives, she eagerly agreed to let me stay. She wanted to show me around to take my mind off the heartbreak.
I had no other connections to the city and never considered moving there before. Getting away from Washington for a little bit sounded like the new start I needed.
In the weeks leading up to the trip, I spent time reconnecting with my new self by burying myself in positive affirmations and self-help books.
A book I turned to often was “You Are a Badass” by Jen Sincero. In the beginning of the breakup, I focused mostly on trying to fix us, but the book reminded me to spend my energy on myself.
“We can see what we want, and nearly kill ourselves trying to get it in a way that’s not working,” Sincero wrote. “What you choose to focus on becomes your reality.”
I shifted away from the empty feeling of missing what was. Instead, I chose to focus on the things that made me happy — making coffee in the morning, getting lunch with old friends, being outside in the sun.
I poured all my attention into enjoying life. Eventually, my sadness began to change. I laughed more, smiled more and became excited about my future again.
I still struggled with the feeling of missing someone and the love that used to be. But now, I could deal with those feelings instead of letting them swallow me whole.
I felt strong, confident and independent. I felt like I could accomplish anything, and my trip to Texas was the first step in putting my newfound strength to the test.
The last few days leading up to the trip were filled with fear and excitement.
Fear, because my future seemed uncertain. Excitement, because my future could take me anywhere.
I am no longer tied to another person’s decisions and future. I am on my own.
My future is in my hands, and for the first time in a long time, I feel capable that I can succeed and be the best version of myself.
With graduation a few months away, the global pandemic slowing down and a new city as my temporary home, I am open to the endless possibilities that would come my way.
As the plane took off from Seattle, Washington, my old self was left in the jet stream.
Looking down at Mount Rainier, I thought about the orange Nike shoebox I left behind in my closet. It had probably collected more dust since I’d first put it there.
Instead of feeling sad, I feel hopeful about all the new memories I can make and the new shoeboxes I can fill.