Middle of Nowhere
Last night, I went to the movies with a good friend to see Middle of Nowhere, an independent film written, directed, and produced by Ava Duvernay. It is probably one of the better movies I have seen in a long time - subtle yet powerful imagery, good acting, relevant music, and a moving, raw, honest story. The letter from Ruby to her incarcerated husband at the end of the film especially moved me, almost to tears in reflection of her story. Some time during the film, I remember asking my friend, where do broken hearts go? He said to search for their other half. I told him his answer was corny and laughed. But maybe he is right.
I personally experienced my first romantic heartbreak, in this case unrequited like/lust, around this time last year. Until then, I had been holding my own, for the most part. I laugh when I think about it because the situation and my emotions after the relationship do not make sense, a bit beyond rationalization. I was only talking to the guy for two or three weeks. Nothing serious happened. But maybe it is because nothing serious happened and promises were made.
The second heartbreak occurred when I decided to severe a long friendship/relationship earlier this year. It was a different kind of heartbreak from the first but one nonetheless. I have made more sense of this one than the first but the question which seems to always linger after one's heart heals is what type of relationship do I want to/ can I have with this person. In this case, we are working to rebuild our friendship but it is always complicated by past loss and hurt, at least on my end.
Thinking about when I first realized what it meant to be heartbroken, it seems like some time in my adolescence, it became engrained in me the belief that a strong, smart, independent person does not talk publicly about their heartbreak. No one denies that it happens but it seems like no one gives it the public memorial or celebration that it deserves. With my breakups, I usually swallow my pride and my heart, hide under the covers for about a week or so, vent many times to a few close friends, listen to a lot of music, eat, and keep it moving.
I keep realizing however, that my romantic relationships, including my breakups, have been defining moments in my growth as a person and as a woman. The things I have learned about myself, specific individuals, people in general, and basically everything in between through my romantic relationships and after them continues to surprise and excite me. But at the end of the relationship, the breakup, or just the unrequited love has tangible and visceral costs which we all relearn with each new breakup. So the interesting question for me is not how to deal with the broken heart but where these hearts go.
Where broken hearts go
I was in awe when a friend shared an article on facebook some time ago about The Museum of Broken Relationships. Other people have been imagining creative ways to answer this question:
The Museum of Broken Relationships grew from a traveling exhibition revolving around the concept of failed relationships and their ruins. Unlike ‘destructive’ self-help instructions for recovery from failed loves, the Museum offers a chance to overcome an emotional collapse through creation: by contributing to the Museum's collection. Whatever the motivation for donating personal belongings – be it sheer exhibitionism, therapeutic relief, or simple curiosity – people embraced the idea of exhibiting their love legacy as a sort of a ritual, a solemn ceremony. Our societies oblige us with our marriages, funerals, and even graduation farewells, but deny us any formal recognition of the demise of a relationship, despite its strong emotional effect. In the words of Roland Barthes in A Lover's Discourse: "Every passion, ultimately, has its spectator... (there is) no amorous oblation without a final theater." ( from the about section on the Museum's website)
A Museum of Broken Relationships may or may not do anything for consoling the aching heart but at least it's a neat idea to have a physical symbolic place for broken hearts. I would love to take a stroll through the exhibits of the museum in different cities and towns to see what objects people bring and what stories they tell. The sweat shirts, t-shirts, poems, jewelry, travel tickets, ties all touched by love, culture, and time. I imagine that the collection of these memorabilia would probably tell a similar human story; one about love, pain, hurt, forgiveness; something about the meaning of love.
I have asked myself, what would I bring to the museum? I would leave at the museum The Weeknd by the Weeknd and Inglorious Basterds for my first heartbreak and maybe Warsan Shire's poem for women who are difficult to love for my second. While cuffing season has officially began and half hearts are finding their way to other half hearts, I know that there are always broken hearts some where, else where, in between. So when I grow older, maybe in the corner of my office, there will be a tiny museum for broken hearts. And if you are a nice person, you can bring me something of a love lost.
I personally experienced my first romantic heartbreak, in this case unrequited like/lust, around this time last year. Until then, I had been holding my own, for the most part. I laugh when I think about it because the situation and my emotions after the relationship do not make sense, a bit beyond rationalization. I was only talking to the guy for two or three weeks. Nothing serious happened. But maybe it is because nothing serious happened and promises were made.
The second heartbreak occurred when I decided to severe a long friendship/relationship earlier this year. It was a different kind of heartbreak from the first but one nonetheless. I have made more sense of this one than the first but the question which seems to always linger after one's heart heals is what type of relationship do I want to/ can I have with this person. In this case, we are working to rebuild our friendship but it is always complicated by past loss and hurt, at least on my end.
Thinking about when I first realized what it meant to be heartbroken, it seems like some time in my adolescence, it became engrained in me the belief that a strong, smart, independent person does not talk publicly about their heartbreak. No one denies that it happens but it seems like no one gives it the public memorial or celebration that it deserves. With my breakups, I usually swallow my pride and my heart, hide under the covers for about a week or so, vent many times to a few close friends, listen to a lot of music, eat, and keep it moving.
I keep realizing however, that my romantic relationships, including my breakups, have been defining moments in my growth as a person and as a woman. The things I have learned about myself, specific individuals, people in general, and basically everything in between through my romantic relationships and after them continues to surprise and excite me. But at the end of the relationship, the breakup, or just the unrequited love has tangible and visceral costs which we all relearn with each new breakup. So the interesting question for me is not how to deal with the broken heart but where these hearts go.
Where broken hearts go
I was in awe when a friend shared an article on facebook some time ago about The Museum of Broken Relationships. Other people have been imagining creative ways to answer this question:
The Museum of Broken Relationships grew from a traveling exhibition revolving around the concept of failed relationships and their ruins. Unlike ‘destructive’ self-help instructions for recovery from failed loves, the Museum offers a chance to overcome an emotional collapse through creation: by contributing to the Museum's collection. Whatever the motivation for donating personal belongings – be it sheer exhibitionism, therapeutic relief, or simple curiosity – people embraced the idea of exhibiting their love legacy as a sort of a ritual, a solemn ceremony. Our societies oblige us with our marriages, funerals, and even graduation farewells, but deny us any formal recognition of the demise of a relationship, despite its strong emotional effect. In the words of Roland Barthes in A Lover's Discourse: "Every passion, ultimately, has its spectator... (there is) no amorous oblation without a final theater." ( from the about section on the Museum's website)
A Museum of Broken Relationships may or may not do anything for consoling the aching heart but at least it's a neat idea to have a physical symbolic place for broken hearts. I would love to take a stroll through the exhibits of the museum in different cities and towns to see what objects people bring and what stories they tell. The sweat shirts, t-shirts, poems, jewelry, travel tickets, ties all touched by love, culture, and time. I imagine that the collection of these memorabilia would probably tell a similar human story; one about love, pain, hurt, forgiveness; something about the meaning of love.
I have asked myself, what would I bring to the museum? I would leave at the museum The Weeknd by the Weeknd and Inglorious Basterds for my first heartbreak and maybe Warsan Shire's poem for women who are difficult to love for my second. While cuffing season has officially began and half hearts are finding their way to other half hearts, I know that there are always broken hearts some where, else where, in between. So when I grow older, maybe in the corner of my office, there will be a tiny museum for broken hearts. And if you are a nice person, you can bring me something of a love lost.
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