Living with a broken heart

“God breaks the heart again and again and again until it stays open.”

― Hazrat Inayat Khan

I was thinking about this quote last night as I was drifting off to sleep, and I thought to myself,

“C’mon God, break my heart. Crack me the fuck open. Let’s see what you got.”

My hot take has always been that I love heartbreak because it forces you to feel. There’s nowhere to go. You can run and hide as much as you want, but it will bring you to your knees. It will crack you open like nothing else.

Maybe not today, but eventually, and when you least expect it.

God has a sick sense of humor. Because he (it, she, whatever) is the ultimate heartbreaker. Putting us in one devastating situation after another, for as long as we shall live. Help us all.

My heart broke at a young age. Yours probably did, too.

Most of our parents didn’t model healthy love, emotional attunement, or the art of holding space. They didn’t show us how to repair after a conflict, how to love freely and openly, or what letting go with love looks like.

Forget showing you how to identify your needs, make loving requests for them, or set healthy boundaries.

And most still aren’t able to apologize properly, take responsibility for their wrongdoings, or show up in an emotionally meaningful way.

Most of them were trying to survive. It’s not an excuse, but it is an explanation.

And they can’t transmit what they didn’t learn. And if you want to dive deeper, I’ve just started reading Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents by Lindsay Gibson, and let me tell you: eye-opening.

So, here we are—heartbroken by our primary caregivers. And it doesn’t end there.

Most of us unconsciously choose lovers and partners who remind us in some way of our early attachment figures, in the hope that we can recreate that pattern and finally achieve a different outcome. Our brains and hearts are trying to heal an old wound, and since we can’t heal by using our primary caregivers, we look to our lovers to take over.

And it’s perfect, and messy, and so fucking unavoidable. Another one of God’s beautiful cosmic jokes.

My therapist recently said that we have little choice in who we fall for. That’s why it’s called falling in love. It just happens, and it’s hard to stop it from happening.

It’s worth noting that while we have very little control over the initial attraction, we do have agency in how we choose to respond to it. We can choose to pause, examine patterns, seek trusted counsel, and decide whether to pursue someone or step back.

Awareness is key and creates choice, even if it doesn’t eliminate the pull of a familiar dynamic.

You’re not doomed to repeat the same mistakes over and over again, but it will require some intense work on your behalf to slowly heal these parts of you. Therapy can help if you can afford it. So can books, self-help groups, and the loving support of friends.

As you heal, who you fall in love with changes. And the healthier the attachment, the more healing can take place. And this is how we break the cycle of emotional neglect.

You’ll see that eventually, and excruciatingly slowly, you will make better choices in who you choose to let into your heart.

It’s important to note that the goal isn’t to accumulate heartbreaks like battle scars, but to remain open to authentic connection despite the risks.

This also doesn’t mean we should seek out pain or stay in harmful situations. Sometimes an open heart means having the wisdom to walk away, set boundaries, or protect yourself from unnecessary damage. There’s a difference between growth through life’s inevitable challenges and martyrdom.

Learning to recognize which connections serve your growth and which ones drain it becomes crucial.

And, here’s the rub: no matter how wise, careful, and aware you are, your heart will break again. And again and again. And not just in romance. But in life. Life will break your heart in a million ways.

People and pets close to you will die. You’ll lose jobs. You’ll see loved ones struggle with addiction. Suicide. War. Social injustice. Children starving. Abuse of all kinds. The list goes on.

Open the news and you’ll see enough to break your heart several times over.

Because, you, my friend, are a lover. And you can’t love with a closed heart. And I know you’re a lover because you’re reading this piece.

Hearts are meant to love. That’s their whole function, and a closed heart can’t love. It can’t experience the bliss, joy, and flutterings of love. It can’t forgive others, it can’t show up with compassion, it can’t support others who are also walking around with a broken heart.

And my guess is that even if you wanted to, you couldn’t live the rest of your life with a closed heart.

Sure, sometimes, you need to retire to your corner and lick your wounds. We all need that. Time to rest, recover, and feel the support of a few loved ones who can help you pick yourself back up to face another day.

But ultimately, you and me, we’re going to turn towards love again, even if we know it might hurt.

And, not to mention that most of us are trying to solve and heal those old childhood wounds. And you can’t do that with a closed heart, or, alone in your apartment all the time. You need people for that. You cannot heal in a vacuum.

My favorite definition of love is by M. Scott Peck in his book, The Road Less Traveled (a banger, please read.)

“Love is the will to extend one’s self for the purpose of nurturing one’s own or another’s spiritual growth.”

It’s that extension that can hurt. Growth rarely comes without growing pains. But with growth comes more expansion. More capacity. More space.

Life is painful, and so is living with a broken heart.

But I’ll take a broken heart over a numb one any day.

I spent ten years of my life drinking and using drugs to numb the pain of life, and I’m not wasting another day. Because numbness doesn’t just block pain, it also blocks joy, connection, growth, and meaning. Life is too short to be asleep at the wheel.

I would rather feel the sting of rejection, the hurt of abandonment, and the despair of loss than feel nothing at all.

Because I desperately want to live with an open heart. I want to forgive, hold no resentment, love unconditionally and unapologetically, and share myself freely. I want to cry freely in public, without wiping away my tears. I want to hold space for people’s broken hearts. I want to help people heal so they, too, can live with an open heart.

And if that means that my heart needs to keep breaking, again and again and again, well then, bring it on, God.

xo, Shaun

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