Falling Apart in Utrecht

“Laugh at yourself when things don’t go as planned,” a member of staff advised us during the Welcome Week back in August. But when my partner broke up with me three weeks after my arrival in Utrecht, it was difficult to laugh it off.

Taylor Swift said it best: "Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts." It hurts in small ways, repeatedly. Taylor asked the traffic lights if it would be all right; I ask the sheep as I bike through the fields to class. They stare back at me blankly. I guess they don’t know. I do know that I’ve cried a lot. An illustrator I follow made a map of all the best crying spots in my hometown (the Sewer Museum made the cut). I could draw my own map of Utrecht by now, with an honourable mention going to the bike parking lot at Utrecht Centraal (it’s dark and private). I would also list Rocking Chair Coffee; a lonely room in the Kinepolis; several NS trains; and the toilets in the Ruppert building on campus.

At first, it felt as if everything was falling apart. Great juddering shards of the future I’d imagined were thundering down and stabbing the earth. Even now, it hurts over and over again, but sometimes I almost feel fine. I’ve realized that none of this is linear.

Dramatic imagery aside, some things have helped. Mostly, my friends’ loving presence, even from afar. Then when I think I’m alone on a bike path, I sing sad songs at the top of my voice. I make popcorn and smile stupidly when the first kernel pops. What a happy, optimistic little pop. I push myself to socialize more than I want to. I’m going to sign up for a sports card at Olympos. I also covered my face and arms with glitter, to dress up as a Pisces for a friend’s themed birthday party. As “research”, I Googled my horoscope for October. It read: “October brings two chaotic eclipses, but your biggest challenge is to boldly be yourself.” (I also found out that I’m governed by “Neptunian energy”.)

I guess my message to anyone out there going through heartache is the following, hackneyed as it may seem: It’s okay not to be okay. Push yourself a little but, above all, be kind to yourself. It will be all right. Until it is, I’ll be talking to sheep and crying in the dark with my bike friends.