Part VI: Heartbreak and the Path to Peace
This piece stands on its own, meaning you don't have to read Parts I-V to benefit from what I have to say about journaling your way through tough emotions. But you can.
#4 of 12 Ways to Move Yourself from Heartbreak to Peace of Mind.
Ego Stroking
I have a lot to say about ego stroking – the good, the bad, the angry, and the sad – but what it all boils down to for me is the need to recognize it when I’m doing it, so I don’t lose perspective.
This Heartbreak and the Path to Peace series is about choosing how to speak to yourself and what to pay attention to when you’re elbows deep in grief and struggling to find something to hold onto so you can get yourself out of it. You know, like every other show in the 70s, when every other good guy or pretty girl or bad villain got trapped in quicksand? If they were worthy, they got themselves out or were rescued, usually with a low-hanging branch. If they weren’t, they succumbed to slow asphyxiation, sucked into the belly of the planet by the relentless need of Mother Nature to vanquish evil from the face of the Earth.
Get it? Face. Belly. Yes? No?
Anyway, that’s how it feels right now. Pulling myself out of the quicksand is happening, but it’s slow going and some days suck harder than others. The low-hanging branch in my scenario is my Daily Pages journaling habit.
Getting thrown into the Pit of Heavy Emotions is a thing that happens to you. Getting stuck there feels inevitable. Getting back out requires really strong communication skills with yourself, especially in your journal.
Writing to yourself, about yourself, for yourself, and because of yourself is one of the most powerful ways you can control your experience in this life—or at least navigate it better, with a whole lot less angst and a whole lot fewer bruises, especially to the heart and the ego. Journaling is a way to develop friendship and intimacy with the one person you will always have with you, guaranteed, all the way to the grave: You.
It’s how you weave your own safety net.
Ego stroking is part of the safety net, but it’s really just a fringe benefit, like fringe on a sleeve. It’s pretty. It draws the eye. It can be alluring. But does it have an essential purpose? Does it get in the way more than it helps?
In the long run, yes. It gets in the way. But in the short run … well, here’s a completely different analogy, just because I can:
Ego stroking is like putting Neosporin on a wound right away to help protect it from further damage and infection. Once it serves its purpose, you stop applying it so you can let things do the work of getting healthy again. It’s that initial barrier of protection between your wounded heart and the onslaught of painful reminders that you have well and truly been dismissed.
It’s where you say things to yourself like, I hope he is super sad and crying and suffering. He just ditched the best thing that ever happened to him! No one will ever love him as much I did! He was so wrong! He needs to realize he made a mistake and want me back! Miss me. Please miss me. This can’t be real. This was just a blip.
Etcetera.
These thoughts ward off pain, but they don’t serve you in any way. But boy, are they tempting little earworms. Self-righteous indignation and wishing so there! things on the person who hurt you feels like power. In the moment.
But there’s no strength there, because there’s no truth there.
You know how weak ego stroking statements are? They’re so weak, they fall apart under questioning. And I’m not talking about old-school KGB interrogation. I’m talking about getting flummoxed by at 2-year-old.
Just ask why. Or you could ask what for? Simple questions are annoyingly useful for releasing you from the sucking, cloying mud of satisfying your ego.
I hope he is super sad and crying and suffering! Why? Because it soothes my ego.
My ego wants it because it’s only fair. But does it make sense? It’s more likely he’s relieved that he got the break-up over with. I mean, let’s be real here. He made the decision that’s in his best interests, so is he suffering? One hundred percent not. What’s that line from Breakeven by The Script? “When a heart breaks … it don’t break even.” It’s not supposed to.
My ego doesn’t like it, but it’s just life. The way of the world. Five-year relationships dissolve all the time. Fifteen-, twenty-, two-, and thirty-year relationships fizzle out. Some people work to pull it back together, to reignite the spark, but the rest don’t. And there you have a bad thing that happened to you, that you didn’t ask for, that you didn’t see coming, that you can’t handle processing all at once.
So you comfort yourself with statements like, He just ditched the best thing that ever happened to him!
Why? Because it soothes the ego. But is it true? Snort. The best thing ever? That’s just silly. I’d like to believe, objectively, that I was a good thing that happened to him, but the best thing? No.
And then there’s this one: No one will ever love him as much as I did!
Why not? Because my ego wouldn’t allow it!
In my case, I loved a man who became one of my best friends. When I ask myself if I really want him to suffer and be forever lonely and to have peaked with me, the truth is no, I don’t. But thinking past that point hurts too much, so I remind myself that his future romantic life is absolutely none of my business. I’m not at a place where I can wish him glorious happiness and ever-lasting love with another woman, but I am at a place where I can learn to mind my own business for my own sake.
He was so wrong! He needs to figure out he made a mistake and want me back! Why? Because my ego demands it! It’s the only thing that makes sense!
If there was some kind of magical fantasy land or a parallel universe where this was the case, what would I even do with that? It’s a serious question. This isn’t a fairy tale or a life-affirming romance novel where he’s unable to bear the tragedy of what he did to me and will pledge to spend the rest of his life making it up to me. He doesn’t want me.
He made a unilateral decision about our relationship, showed me very clearly that I did not matter enough to talk to about what was going on with him, let me believe and worry about his health, and was able to wipe away my future in less than 15 minutes.
How could I ever unknow all that? How could I ever feel safe in a relationship with him again? I couldn’t, and it’s just as well because it’s not what he wants. It’s not reality. It was wishful thinking to soothe my ego until I was ready to take a deep breath and face facts.
The fact is, he made a decision. It wasn’t a whim, it was a decision. It’s over. He’s gone. He turned himself and his life away from me, and there is no point staring after his back, hoping he’ll turn around and look at me again.
Knowing this is really, really hard. But it’s also freedom. And it comes with the power to handle my own grief and recovery on my terms, with no distractions.
My default setting is hope. But even I have to admit when hope is just delusion.
Miss me. Please miss me. This can’t be real. This was just a blip. The thing is, some ego-stroking is legitimate for the sake of preserving self-esteem. I think it’s reasonable to want him to miss me. Why? Because I believe I brought something special to his life, that I filled space and time with love and laughter, affection and thoughtful gestures. I don’t think it’s ego stroking or unreasonable to think he might feel my absence now and then.
Am I ever going to know for sure? No. But I remember the way things were when they were good and I remember what part I played, and how much I loved the way I loved him, and I allow myself to be content with that being enough. I didn’t say make myself be content with it. I said allow myself to be content with that. One is an act of aggression against my vulnerable self and the other is an act of permission, of grace. There’s a difference.
What I can know for sure is that it is real. It was never a blip.
I’m the first to admit this process of moving from heartbreak to peace of mind is hard AF. It’s fraught with triggers and emotional regression from adult to toddler, followed by a hard uphill climb back up to adult reasoning, and then back down to something about as mature as the goop inside a chrysalis.
But it is 100% worth the effort. Every time you pay attention to how to speak to yourself, when to question yourself, and which voices get to talk to you in your journal, you make a conscious decision to elevate your own value in your own eyes.
You separate the chaff from the wheat, as it were. The distractions from the point. The inner gas-lighter from the truth.
And the ego stroking from the way things will never be.
The truth is the hardest thing to get to, and it hurts like fucking hell, but once I find it under all the other stuff, I like to hold onto it. It takes courage to grab the truth by the horns and it takes focus and determination to hang on.
I get thrown off. I climb back on. I get thrown off again. My plan is to ride the truth until it stops bucking and kicking, and I can finally work with it. Because the truth is strong like bull, and … geezus, when I find a metaphor I like, I work that sucker to death, don’t I?
Back to you. The next time you write in your journal, remember you’re setting the scene in your heart and mind for how you’re going to navigate the day.
Which thoughts and feelings do you want to dominate your experience?
When you have an intimate conversation with yourself in your journal, you engage in the act of weaving a safety net with your words that will bind, strong and sure, and serve you for the rest of your life. What you write matters.
Go ahead and indulge in ego stroking and speculation and drama and get carried away in a storm – no, in a stampede of emotions. And then rein it all in by asking yourself if what you just wrote is really true.
Rewording or rewriting or just answering with the truth is a way to practice being objective in your journal, a way to put a little space between messy emotions and your need to walk into the day with calm, patience, and as much equanimity as you can muster.
Because we all have jobs and friends and fam and pets and commitments and obligations and expectations and things we actually want to do. Getting on with life does not mean ignoring what you’re going through. But it does mean doing the work that will support you as you go about your business.
If (when) you go to your journal to vent and scream and say mean things, wrap it up with a statement that you had shit to get off your chest. You’re done now. You’re going to be okay. You are okay. Do this every time. It’s an important reminder that your journal is a container for all that crap, not a religion.
Word choice and phrasing and asking questions – it all seems like work. Like you’re not exhausted by all this already. I’ll tell you what, though. If your intention is to feel better, you have to do the mental work. You have to walk the path from here to there.
Trust the process. But first, work the process.
