Find somewhere you can be for a little while without needing to do anything.
You might want to lie down.
You might want to curl up beneath the blanket.
Or perhaps you're sitting somewhere because lying still feels impossible right now.
However you've arrived here.
Is okay.
There's nothing you need to achieve during these next few minutes.
You don't need to calm yourself perfectly.
You don't need to stop thinking.
And you certainly don't need to be ready to move on.
For now Just let yourself.
Be here.
Take a slow breath in.
.
.
And let it leave you gently.
Another breath.
And?
Bend out.
If your heart has recently been broken.
You may feel as though your whole world has changed.
Perhaps something you thought was certain suddenly isn't.
Perhaps the person you expected to be beside you is no longer there.
Perhaps you're trying to understand.
What happened?
Replaying conversations.
Remembering things they said.
Wondering what you could have done differently.
Or perhaps you don't have the energy to think about any of it anymore.
You just.
.
.
Huh.
If that's where you are today.
You don't have to solve any of it here.
You don't need answers during this meditation.
You don't need to understand why.
You don't need to decide what you're going to do next.
There will be time for those things.
But not now.
Right now?
We're going to make the world very small.
Just this room.
Yes.
Yes!
Moe.
Bring your attention.
To whatever is supporting.
Your body.
The bed beneath you.
The chat.
The floor.
Notice that you don't have to hold all of your weight yourself.
Something.
Is holding you.
Allow yourself.
Give a little more of your weight to it.
Let your shoulders drop.
Unclench your jaw if you can.
Let your hands soften.
And Breathe.
Nothing more.
Heartbreak can live in the body in strange ways.
A heaviness in the chest.
A hollow feeling in the stomach.
Throat that feels permanently tight.
An exhaustion that sleep doesn't seem to touch.
Sometimes you may feel almost normal for a few minutes.
And then suddenly remember.
There it is again.
You don't need to push any of those feelings away.
And you don't need to go searching for them either.
Simply.
Notice.
What is here?
Maybe quietly saying to yourself.
.
.
This hurts.
This is hard.
And I am here.
Place a hand somewhere.
Feels comforting.
Maybe over your heart?
Perhaps over your stomach?
Or simply wrap your arms gently around yourself.
Feel the warmth of your own hands.
Pressure.
The contact.
And breathe beneath it.
You may have heard people say.
But you need to let go.
That you need to move forward.
That you'll meet someone else that one day you'll understand why this happened.
Maybe.
.
.
Someday.
Some of these things?
Will eventually feel true.
But they don't have to help you today.
Today.
You are allowed to miss them.
You are allowed to love someone who is no longer part of your life.
You are allowed to feel angry.
You are allowed to feel frightened.
You are allowed to feel relieved.
And devastated at the same time.
You are allowed to have moments.
When you desperately want them back.
Even if another part of you.
Knows the relationship has ended.
Heartbreak doesn't arrive neatly.
And you don't have to experience it neatly either.
There may be moments when your mind travels far ahead.
How will I do this alone?
What will happen to the life I thought I was going to have?
Will I always feel like this?
When those thoughts come.
See if you can gently bring yourself back.
Not because those questions don't matter.
But because you don't have to answer them today.
Come back.
To your breath.
In.
And out.
And perhaps,
Say quietly.
I don't have to know what comes next.
I only need to be here.
Now.
Again.
I don't have to know what comes next.
There is something particularly painful.
About losing,
Not only.
Person.
But the life that existed around them.
Ordinary things.
And messages.
The familiar voice.
The plants.
The person you automatically turn towards when something happens.
Perhaps even the version of yourself you were when you were with them.
So.
.
.
If the world feels unfamiliar at the moment.
There is a reason.
So much has changed.
For now Don't ask yourself to build a new life.
That's far too much for today.
Ask yourself only.
What do I need for the next few hours?
Maybe you need to eat something.
Maybe you need water.
Baby,
You need to shower.
Maybe you need to call someone who loves you.
Baby.
You need to go outside and feel the air against your face.
Maybe you need.
To sleep.
Maybe you simply need to get through today.
Without expecting anything more.
From yourself.
Small things count right now.
Getting dressed counts.
Eating something counts.
Opening the curtains counts.
Answering one message counts.
Walking to the end of the road and back counts.
Resting counts.
Crying counts.
Beginning again tomorrow counts.
And if you've been wondering why you can't concentrate,
Why are you forgetting things?
Why is simple decisions feel enormous?
Why you can't seem to be the person you normally are.
Perhaps.
Just for today.
Stop demanding that version of yourself you're carrying something heavy.
Be gentle with the person carrying it.
Take another slow breath.
Feel your hand against your body.
And perhaps tell yourself.
I am allowed to take this slowly.
I am allowed.
To hurt.
I don't have to have all the answers today.
I can take care of myself,
One moment at a time.
You don't have to believe every word completely.
Just let the words.
.
.
Sit beside you.
There may be waves today.
Song.
So to go.
An empty side of the bed.
A notification that isn't from them.
A memory.
Appearing without warning.
And when one comes.
You don't have to fight the whole ocean.
Just this wave.
Breathe.
While it rises.
And breathe.
While it passes.
Another may come.
And if it does?
You'll meet that one when it arrives.
Not now.
Right now Aww.
Here.
Breathing.
Support it.
Making it through this moment.
And for today?
That is enough.
Take one deeper breath in.
Hold it gently.
For a moment.
And slowly let it go.
Before we finish.
Choose one small act of care.
For yourself after this meditation.
Nothing ambitious.
A glass of water.
Something to eat.
A warm shower.
Opening window.
Calling someone.
Going back to sleep.
Whatever feels possible.
Pizza.
Be enough.
You don't have to rebuild your life today.
You don't even have to know what rebuilding will look like.
Bye for now.
Take care of the person who is hurting.
One breath.
One hour.
One day at a time.
When you are ready.
Slowly begin to notice the room around you again.
The sounds.
The air against your skin.
The surface beneath you.
Move your fingers.
Move your toes.
Take one final,
Gentle breath.
To dry.
You don't have to move on.
You only have to keep taking care of yourself.
While your heart catches up with everything that has changed.
