When things end, I will be okay. I mean, not immediately, but other things have tried to break me before, and to quote Sir Elton John, “I’m still standing” Sometimes unevenly, sometimes with tears in my eyes, sometimes just barely, but I’m still standing.

I will make the best breakup playlist you’ve ever heard. It’ll be the perfect ratio of angry, sad and sexy. I will have that on repeat in my car for a few weeks, probably. I might be sad, but I’ll have a great soundtrack. I’ll be a you oughta know, bringing sexy back, truth hurting, bitch.

I will do the cliche getting under someone to get over someone move. We’ll pray it’s a person who understands the situation and doesn’t get all starry-eyed at me, because that will be the very last thing I’ll want.

I’ll either drink too much, or not at all. Both are weapons in my healing process, dependent upon how/if alcohol factored into my newly re-single status.

I might get another job or two. Go back to my “boss babe” mantra of “better to be busy than broke” I’ll be both for a bit, but the 90 hour work week will be a distraction that people will respect, admire even, unlike the drinking and fucking.

I will throw the most spectacular pity party, featuring fishing for compliments and seeking validation from my friends that I am loveable and you’re just an idiot. This step segues into the occasion super petty post on Facebook, about my ex. People will respond with a “laugh” or “care” emoji, I’ll smirk and continue my day.

When things end, I will be hurt and angry. I’m a badass, but I am a human, a little bit. It will feel like my life is full of moon-less nights, for a little while, at least. A little darker, dimmer, desolate. But, just like the moon, a new phase will occur. It’s a cycle. It’s a process. And with time I will be whole and robust again.