dispatch from the other side of the portal

on moving through break ups and flirting with change

Jun 16, 2025

Hi sweeties and substackers, it’s been a while!

I hope Spring’s sweetness has found you like it’s found me—in the fragrance of fresh blooms carried on the breeze or the warm caress of morning sun on rosy cheeks.

the scent of rose bushes always transports me to summers in my grandmother’s garden as a young girl <3

I have a confession.

I have been hesitant to publish any writing here lately. Mostly because I value showing up authentically and that requires divulging some context that feels raw to publicize: I went through a break up a few months ago. Multiple actually, both romantic and platonic, all deeply intimate. Despite this stubborn sense of confidence that I am on the path meant for me, I am still moving through the immense grief of it all.

Often, break ups are portals. There is a visceral shedding that occurs. A complete energetic recalibration of the self. It is far from graceful. Or at least that’s been my experience. Being single for the first time in over four years left me feeling doeish and uncertain one moment and on top of the world the next. I felt much like a toddler—desperate to run but lacking the confidence, covered in bruises, stained with emotional residue, and ninety seconds away from a tantrum at any given moment. It has been a messy, awful, gorgeous season.

the break ups:

My (ex)partner and I were together for four and a half years. In that time, we shared three apartments, hundreds of meals, and a dog. We graduated college together. We supported each other through financial hardships and family deaths. The relationship we tenderly crafted is something I am immensely proud of. It did not end due to a lack of love between us. The love between us was (and in many ways, still is) rich. But sometimes, I’m learning, love is not enough. And sometimes, letting go is the most loving thing people can do for each other.

My platonic break-ups happened about a week after this romantic one. Experiencing the end of a long term partnership left my heart a bloody sensitive mess. While I did not expect my friends to stop the bleeding (for my broken heart is mine to carry), I did expect to be met with tenderness while I grieved. When I was not met with this kind of tenderness, and instead met with condescension and defensiveness after multiple attempts at repair, it became clear to me that these were no longer relationships I wanted to spend my precious energy cultivating. My grief had become a clarifying force I could not ignore. I miss our companionship and the laughter we shared. But I desire intimate relationships with people who are willing to witness me not just in my joyfulness and playfulness, but in the depths of my heartache. I desire intimate relationships with people who refrain from trying to cure my grief or fix my circumstances, but honor my grief just by being with me in it. And fear not, I am very lucky to have multiple such friendships. You know who you are—thank you, I love you.

you cannot convince me this isn’t a portal to some mystical world

past, present, future self:

A couple months ago, this image came to me: an older woman reaching her hand out toward me. Her hair hung in gray waves around a gentle smile. She was wearing leopard print. She had my face. She beckoned me to move forward.

Plans to do just that were already in motion. I packed up my outback, said farewell to the city that raised me, and drove ten hours south to a small coastal town in Northern California where I didn’t know anyone at all. Six months ago I would never have guessed I would be here. And yet, being here also feels like the sprouting of a seed I planted long ago.

As a young girl, I dreamt about moving away from home and traveling the world. I remember one Christmas when I was about thirteen or fourteen that my family went to visit Santa at a local garden. I was too old to believe this stranger in a red suit had the power to give me what I wanted, but I played along anyway. “What do YOU want for Christmas?” he asked. “a ticket to anywhere,” I pronounced with confidence.

Frankly, I lost touch with this dream after settling into a job, a routine, a relationship, a city. I planned trips only to cancel them when I inevitably couldn’t get time off work or felt pressed financially. Traveling became an aspiration that simmered just beyond my grasp. Then I got fired and the opportunity to take a travel nursing contract unexpectedly presented itself. My old dream felt attainable for the first time in years, dangling in front of me like bait. Possibility is a voracious flirt, but luckily so am I. In the past, I’ve choked on change and recoiled at “what if”. But lately, I blush. My heart still races, but it also swells. So I’m adding kindling to the flame of desire in my chest, tending to it fiercely.

skating more often has brought such pleasure and playfulness to my life.

I’ve been in Norcal for eight weeks now. I’m finding joy and connection in unexpected places. The old roller rink where I made friends with a crew of other queer skaters. The speakeasy that hosts a live jazz band on Tuesdays and Fridays. The marsh, where over three hundred species of birds visit each year. The Finnish saunas, where you can sip, smoke, and soak in pure bliss.

I think the leopard print woman would be proud of me. Yes, my heart feels like a pin cushion, still steadily oozing. No, I don’t have a solid plan for my future. But look at what I’m capable of! Look at the risks I’m willing to take! Look at the devastating glory of following my intuition! Life is beautiful on this side of the portal too.

I would love to know how break ups and ruptures have changed you. Do you identify with the experience of break ups being portals? If love alone isn’t enough to maintain and sustain a relationship, what do you think is? What do you desire from your intimate relationships? How do you sense when it’s time to redirect your energy? See you in the comments!