How Many Times Can a Heart Be Broken?

Heartbreak comes in many forms.

Friends can break your heart. Lovers can… Family can, too.

I’ve lost workplaces, homes, and even my mobility—all of which left me fractured in ways I can barely describe.

Often, my heart is broken simply by attaching to hope. A hope of more, of something better… Something that feels so palpable and true, then doesn’t come to fruition.

Whether it’s a non-negotiable need to part ways that separates us from people and places we love, or by treasured souls taken sooner than we’d like, in a weird way, our experience is defined by the phases before, after, and between heartbreak.

Heartbreak is the risk we accept as a part of choosing to love.

But even before I did—when I kept quietly, painfully, to myself—I couldn’t avoid it, either.

I’ve had my heart broken more times than I can count. Some of the wounds feel ancient, as though they can’t possibly have taken place this lifetime. Others feel recurring, which is the most exhausting kind…

Grief, sorrow, confusion, and acceptance — all phases of loss. But no matter the kind, there is no remedy or precaution we can take to make a broken heart hurt less.

Overall, I’m tired of heartbreak. And I pray it tires of me, too.

While it and I no longer feel like a match, our residual relationship after thirty-four years of run-ins is hard to break free from.

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My heart broke when my grandmother died.

She was my person—the one who saw me. The one who nurtured and encouraged my dreams, and taught me that I was whole, while others tore me to pieces.

When my grandmother died, my mental health collapsed. My guiding light of gentle beauty throughout a childhood engulfed by darkness left this world, and me behind with it… And I just barely missed getting to say goodbye.

The paramedics said that her waiting for my return is what saved lives, preventing her from being on the road when it happened. But all I ever heard was that I wasn’t there to see that radiant glow in her eyes one last time before she was suddenly gone forever.

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My heart broke when my father left,

choosing a new family over ours… One that eventually made space for my brother, but didn’t have room to welcome me. I had already been replaced by another girl my age.

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My heart broke when I was sexually harassed and bullied for 11 months after turning down a romantic relationship with my employer.

The illusion of safety at work, the opportunities I was promised, the kind community I’d gathered at a job I once loved… All helplessly yanked away.

It broke every day leading up to my departure when friends saw the tears in my eyes, but didn’t know why I was shattered after being left alone with him in the office…

Or why I could hardly catch my breath after vomiting in the parking lot out back or on my morning walk in, as the thought of facing another day became more than my body or mind could handle.

I was alone in my silence.

The world kept spinning around me, and by appearances, I remained the model employee that customers and coworkers adored—but inside, I was drowning… Watching my ability to function or take care of my life outside of work completely fall apart under the extreme stress, anxiety, and depression I experienced.

My heart was broken by the fact that in the end, I had to choose between the safety of having an income that allowed me to sustain food and shelter, and my lack of physical safety in a workplace that should have protected me.

Broken by the degrading questions male CEOs and COOs asked me throughout the process—Broken by the way I was handled like a liability rather than a human being.

Most of all, my heart breaks because to this day, my former coworkers don’t know the truth of what I suffered in silence, before their eyes… And I still feel alone in the consequences I carry.

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My most recurring and devastating heartbreak is the one I feel every day that I wake up without my little brother.

Not knowing if he is alive...
Not knowing if he is okay.
Not knowing if he still loves me… Or if they erased that too.

My heart is as broken by the thought of his passing as it is by the thought that he might be out there somewhere with a family and children of his own that I will never know.

The endless pain and loneliness of losing someone living without knowing for sure that they are, is a particular brand of grief.

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The question now:

How many times can a heart be broken before it stops putting itself back together?

My days have been painful lately, and I have too many yesterdays that felt similar to be sure that tomorrow will be different. The part of me that learned to hold onto faith and hope is more tired than ever before. And that weight is too heavy to carry alone.

I don’t want to focus on my hurts over the light I came here to share—but in so many of your stories I read, I recognize parts of my own.

And trust is built on common ground.

I know that you, too, carry the weight. Because human lives are fragile, and this manmade mess of existence is jarring to say the least…

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If I’m not willing to share the underlying pains that exist in my most vulnerable moments, though I wish they didn’t, how can I ask you to listen when my time comes to proceed with clarity and confidence?

I sit here typing away for hours later than expected, trying to make sense of it all… Not solely for my benefit, but also yours.

Though I’ve stopped searching for meaning, I try to uncover new ways to leverage my abundantly broken heart to my advantage. I seek to understand the strengths it has given, in the hope that you, too, will be reminded of the ways yours made you stronger.

What does heartbreak teach us?

It teaches us where we trust ourselves and what areas we could trust ourselves more... It shows us when we lean on our good character with certainty and when we still hesitate.

Heartbreak gives us the choice to finally crumble for good or pick ourselves back up and be willing to try something different…

It teaches us the courage to take what didn’t work before and reach for something fresh, with blind faith.

The opportunity to put ourselves out there and risk being hurt again is perhaps the most compassionate thing it could ask… Because it forces us to keep going. It gives us a reason to return from beneath our grief and find new reasons to get back on the path we are meant for.

How can heartbreak make us brighter and bolder, in the end?

Ultimately, heartbreak is alignment. It shakes loose our foundation when our energy is asking and ready for more.

It illuminates all that was unfulfilled in hindsight, like an honest blueprint to follow as we make room for the massive, unending love we are worthy of—a love we can receive once we let go of the way a past version of ourselves experienced hurt or loss.

I know it isn’t easy, but I also want you to know that you are not alone… You don’t have to go through it alone. Thank you for being here.