Wave #3: On Breakups and Breakdowns

Ay, what a month.

Que Onda is a Spanish phrase that literally translates to “what’s the wave” and is used to mean "what’s up?" In this bi-monthly publication, I share the highs and lows through personal essays, guest interviews, and curated findings.

Source: Stephen Doherty

If life has taught me anything these past few years, it’s that change is constant. How we engage with change, both in our attitudes and responses, profoundly shapes our peace, contentment, and freedom.

While I’d love to claim that I’m a pro at traversing change (after all, I've moved six times in the past year alone), the truth is that I still catch myself feeling hesitant and afraid when it comes my way.

I've often invited change, but truthfully, it’s come with a rather unrealistic stipulation: I want change— but only if it fits snugly within my terms and timeline, thank you very much.

…And well, you can probably guess how that pans out!

You and I know that change doesn’t always conform to our expectations—sometimes change is wanted, other times it's unbidden. I understand this on a fundamental level- so why am I still so surprised when things don’t go my way?

I’m finding solace in an ancient Chinese parable that my dad would recount when I was younger. The story follows a wise farmer who encounters a series of unplanned events. He has a horse that he uses for many tasks around his farm. One day, the horse escapes from its pen and runs away into the hills.

The villagers hear about the farmer's misfortune and come to console him. “What bad luck!” they sympathize. But the farmer remains composed and calmly replies, “Maybe it's good, maybe it's bad.”

A few days later, to everyone's surprise, the horse returns to the farm. And not only does it come back, but it brings with it a herd of wild horses from the hills.

The villagers gather around and exclaim, “Wow, what luck- now you have many horses!” But again, the farmer just smiles and says, “Maybe it's good, maybe it's bad.”

The farmer's son is excited about the new horses and tries to tame one of them. In doing so, he falls off the horse and breaks his leg. “Oh, what a tragedy!” the villagers sympathize. But once again, the farmer’s equanimity prevails and he replies, “Maybe it's good, maybe it's bad.”

Soon after, a war breaks out, and soldiers come recruiting young men for the army. Because the farmer's son has a broken leg, he’s spared from being drafted.

The villagers are amazed at the farmer’s good fortune. “You’re lucky that your son didn’t have to go to war!” they tell him. The farmer’s refrain, “Maybe it’s good, maybe it’s bad,” encapsulates the essence of the parable: sometimes things may seem good, and sometimes they may seem bad, but in truth, we won’t always know the full story until time passes.

Life is brimming with unpredictable shifts, and what may initially seem unfortunate could pave the way for something amazing (and vice versa). The farmer’s wisdom feels like a wise invitation to welcome life’s uncertainty and to go past hasty evaluations. What a beautiful reframe, huh?

Now that I’ve primed you with that story, you’re probably wondering what change I’m going through. I’ve been holding off on writing because a part of me hoped that I’d be able to share more by now, but I’m still limited in what I can say.

What I can reveal is that I've ended my relationship with my boyfriend. Again, I’m still in the thick of it, and I hope to offer more insight once the situation becomes clearer.

This year has been a whirlwind of beginnings and endings—swapping old roles for new ones, weaving and then unraveling relationships, an endless game of changing living spaces, shedding pounds (not in a healthy way) and tears, wrestling with loneliness and grief while embracing fleeting moments of joy. I’m proud of the resilience I’ve shown during this time, for my close circle of loved ones, therapist, and energy workers that have responded and supported at random hours. I feel wobbly, but I’m slowly finding steady ground.

I’m going through a transition right now - then again, we are always on the verge of some change, if we think about it. What sort of change are you going through right now? Collectively, here on the northern hemisphere, the hot months will soon transition into cooler ones. Change is unavoidable, you see?

If I can reframe this moment, the end of this relationship feels like an invitation to forge a wiser, more accepting relationship with change. It makes me think of a fruit that’s peaked, no longer ripe and succulent. When it’s gone rotten, it’s time to let it go, no matter how sweet it was at some point. Metaphors are very much my friend right now, can you tell?

When you think about it, though, much of life is a series of cycles that repeat over and over— the moon's phases, shifting seasons, economic cycle, days of the week—a constant ebb and flow of "life/death/life", as Clarissa Pinkola Estes says. Meaning, things are literally and metaphorically dying and being reborn all the time. Periods of intense activity yield to intervals of tranquility. Rinse and repeat. It’s the natural order of things.

I love internalizing these images. We may intellectually acknowledge that we live within cycles of change, but are we actually comfy with the never-ending nature that this concept actually implies? I’ll speak for myself: I often still struggle with the perpetuity of change. Many of us may want to experience life in a static way that is really based around our need to control, and again, that’s an unrealistic (and somewhat delusional) outlook.

And yeah, it doesn’t escape me that even though change is often cyclical, it’s also unpredictable- that’s true. We can’t predict if or when we’ll find love again, how our current relationships will change us over time, or even if the love we have now will stand the test of time.

But at least we can trust that change is constant.

Trust is an interesting word to use here, but that’s exactly the practice when it comes to change.

Maybe that’s why unwanted change hurts so much, you know? It reflects a subtle distrust in the natural order of things, an unconscious clinging to a past moment so wonderful that there’s resistance to its ending.

So yeah, the practice here is trust.

No matter what transition you’re undergoing, whenever you find yourself pushing against the current events with thoughts like ‘this is wrong,’ ‘life is wrong,’ and, ‘I know what would be better,’ you may, like me, consider settling into an ‘I-don’t-know’ mindset.

To admit that we don’t know takes courage. Equally courageous is replacing those thoughts with, ‘I trust nature and the current of my life.’ And yeah, I'm right there with you on practicing this, because I'm far from having it all figured out!

Take last night, for example. I had a breakdown— the ugly kind where kicking and screaming were involved. It’s painful to think about it the day right after, but maybe this shows you that I’m trying just as hard as everybody else to embrace the chaos and beauty of it all. Crying about it when I need to while infusing humor into my realizations of how life can be both extraordinarily complex and inherently simple.

What we feel is ours alone to process.

And our emotions are important and informative.

What a month, I tell you.

I leave you with a reflection I worked on late last night after said breakdown: if you can’t trust the present moment, draw strength from your past experiences.

Think of a time you wished so badly for something to happen but life took a more fitting direction. What’s an instance when life brought you something more appropriate than what you at one time had asked for?

Con amor (with love),

Flor

You can never replace anyone- (from one of my favorite trilogies).

Who else remembers this blast from the past?

Quarter-life crisis and the quest for stability and meaning (makes me want to check out her book).

If a friend sent you this email—tell them thanks! Anything you want covered? Questions? Reply to this email to reach me directly! Hasta pronto- until next time!