How To Mend A Broken Heart?

Imagine you are diving into the sea or any water body. After a specific time, you gasp for breath and must break to the surface. Then you take big gulps of air, and your breathing becomes more regular. You take another big breath of air, and down you go to explore, all refreshed.

This is how I feel at times when I don’t travel, especially to places where there are people who satisfy my need for oxygen. I never realised it until now because travelling has been quite the norm for me for a long time. I have been to Chicago, Sydney, SFO, and London in the last two months. All these places have been nourishment for the soul. It started with Vipassana in Chicago, which was a detox at a spiritual level, then over to Sydney to hang out with my brother, filled my creative soul with the writing room retreat, and finished it off with London, where I have family that I chose. When I returned to Columbus, I felt as if I had had my share of air and was ready to live my life until I felt the need to break the surface again.

Sometimes, the frequency of wanting to come up to the surface is longer than other times, but the need to do so is consistent. The quote ‘Born To Travel Forced To Work’ rang true this time. I cannot remember a time when I did not have the desire to move - as a child, we always moved every few years, so that is the only life I have known. And as I have travelled, I have unknowingly left a small piece of my heart at the place or with someone who has travelled elsewhere. At regular intervals, I have to connect that piece with my current broken heart so that it feels whole again. So, I have a broken heart, and I live with it because my heart, like me, also likes to travel. That is why I have very few close friends; it is hard to assemble a heart when broken into a million pieces. Can I just say that I love this analogy I came up with?

Now, it does come with a price. When I went to London this time, my heart ached fiercely because I was not always there. The ease with which I fit in, the ease with which the conversations happened, is painful because I cannot find it elsewhere. The pain of leaving that behind gets harder and harder. Maybe sometime in the future, you will see an Instagram video of me bawling my eyes out at Heathrow airport, screaming, ‘I do not want to go.’ I am also familiar with the steely determination that is needed to tell yourself that it’s time to go because life needs me elsewhere. When the time is right, things will change - I have to come to realise the reality of this brutal truth time and again. I strongly believe in a friendly universe and think it is conspiring in my interest, even if it sometimes feels painful, and I have to do things I do not want to, but ultimately it is good for me.

It is times like this when I am grateful for memories old and new—every moment I spend with them is precious, and I am fully myself because life is very delicate. I am happy to have a broken heart that requires me to go to different places to feel whole—that is me.

Can you relate to the broken-heartedness?