Having a Blue Valentine’s? I’ve been there
Valentine’s Day can feel like salt in a wound when you’re heartbroken. I remember the first one after my engagement ended—it was a day I’ll never forget.
Originally Published: February 10th, 2017
A couple of months ago, I wrote about my worst Christmas ever. Now that it's Valentine's Day, I can't help but think about all the heartbroken women and men struggling to get through this day.
So here I go again…
I understand that many people find it helpful to hear how I navigated the year after my broken engagement in 2011. I get it, you want to know you're not alone.
As someone who's experienced more heartbreak than I ever thought possible, I have good news: if you're willing to do "the work," you can survive this heartbreak and turn it into an opportunity for authentic growth, emerge a happier person, and eventually find a loving and fulfilling relationship.
But first, you need to get through today.
I hope that by sharing a bit of my own experience of my blue Valentine, you’ll feel a little less alone. And if you're looking for more ideas on how to take care of yourself, check out my Valentine's Day Guide for helpful resources.
Valentine's Day, 2011: The Last Goodbye
"Parting is all we need to know of hell." — Emily Dickinson
The first Valentine’s Day after my engagement ended was unforgettable. It was the final hurdle in the trilogy of winter holidays (after Christmas and New Year’s), and I was eager to put them all behind me.
Poetically, it also became the last time my ex-fiancé and I ever spoke.
Weeks after I had moved out of our home, we started talking again. Cautiously exploring the idea of reconciliation at some point in the future.
For Valentine's Day that year, he wrote me a poem and read it to me over Skype (it was 2011, after all!) as he was out of the country.
As I heard each of his carefully chose words, my heart sank. The words themselves were beautiful—but I knew they weren’t about me.
A wave of sadness and clarity hit me in that moment.
In the three months since our breakup and broken engagement, I had started reclaiming the parts of myself I had abandoned during our relationship—my extroversion, my feminine nature, my extensive social circle, my love of dancing and in particular Tango.
At the expense of being together, we had sacrificed far too much of ourselves—something I know now never works in the long run. And I now understood a painful truth: you can compromise in love, but you can never compromise yourself.
And so, I took a deep breath and thanked him for the poem before sharing my honest thoughts.
As hard as it was to admit to myself, I painfully came to accept in that very moment that he didn't really love me, he loved his idea of me. And that kind of love was conditional and controlling.
It was painful to be so honest, but I was done abandoning my truest self.
Predictably, he was upset and blamed me saying “I can never make you happy.”
And just like that, we said our last goodbye.
Letting go of the big "what if" was terrifying, but also wildly empowering to choose my self.
Alone Again, Naturally
That Valentine’s Day evening of 2011, I had no set plans, but I knew I needed some major self-care.
My heart ached. I hadn't invested much in my friendships during our relationship (a major red flag in hindsight), so I didn’t have many people to call on.
The silence in my apartment felt deafening, so I put on my coat and went for a long winter walk.
I ended up at one of my favourite bookstores, where I found solace in the familiarity of the space and the quiet hum of life around me.
I bought a beautiful small book, Pablo Neruda’s “Love Poems,” and as I sat in the store’s café reading, someone started playing the grand piano nearby.
I remember feeling a gentle comfort, as I absorbed the duality of this perfect moment—the beauty and bittersweetness.
Later, I checked the movie listings and couldn’t believe my luck—my favorite indie theatre was playing Amélie.
My ex and I had loved that movie, but watching it alone in a big almost empty theatre felt cathartic.
As a breakup coach, I now understand the importance of creating new memories as part of the healing process.
It was the perfect way to spend my blue Valentine’s Day of 2011.
Was I sad? Of course.
Lonely? A little.
But beneath it all, most importantly, I felt a sense of peace. Deep down, I knew this was all the right decision, and I firmly believed that, in time, I would be okay.
I chose to trust that this heartbreak, like so many challenges before it, would make sense one day. And that, in time, it would all come together to shape me into a better person and a more loving partner.
Many later, married to my best friend and happier than ever, I know this to be true.
However You Spend Today…
Take good care of you your tender heart. Remind yourself that you will be okay (because you will). Trust that your heart is being prepared for great love, including the love you can have for yourself.
You've got this.
Natalia
