Love Hangover (But It’s Not Just Love)
A few days ago, I asked Achi, one of my best friends, this question: “How many broken hearts can we actually endure as human beings?”
Then she answered: “As long as we live in this world. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be people who kill themselves.”
There were days when I thought I couldn’t endure one more broken heart, not only because of the pain, but also because of the disappointment. I can deal with anger and resentment quite quickly, but not with disappointment. Every time—even when I’m not thinking about it—the memory of a certain disappointment suddenly pops into my head, and my heart sinks right away.
It reminds me of one of my backbone clients back in my advertising days: “You over-promised and then under-delivered to me. That’s a form of betrayal, Ega.”
That statement has pierced me for years now. And I finally get it.
The amount of disgust, hatred, and stupidity that I feel toward myself can be unbearable. I lost faith in myself that I can repair this recent broken heart. Yet, I think I’m making quite significant progress.
I didn’t say, “I should’ve known better,” to myself.
I said, “I learned my lesson.”
And I spent more than two weeks trying to steady myself on top of the ruins that I allowed to exist.
But humans always fascinate me. No matter how hard things get, no matter how exhausted they are, some people still choose to have hope. Some even create it—not only for themselves, but also for the people around them.
I haven’t fully repaired or healed. I mean… those two concepts are probably the most desired things for everyone, right? But I wonder, how many of us are actually willing to do the hard work to get there?
I, myself, am beyond exhausted from doing the hard work. Learning, relearning, unlearning, doing shadow work with a dedicated community or with trusted friends who have the capacity for it—it’s an endless, winding road. Once you step into it, once you commit to the process, there’s no going back. No matter how tired you are.
It keeps demanding your accountability, your reliability. Not only for the people who care about you, but most importantly—for yourself.
Maybe that’s why, when people reach that level of exhaustion, some start listening to their intrusive and suicidal thoughts. Not because they don’t understand life, but because they’re tired. Tired of the burden. Tired of the pain. Tired of the constant work of repairing and healing. And sometimes, the idea of being done—for once and for all—feels like relief.
I’m no better than anyone else. I don’t know everything. And when I don’t know, I ask questions—not only to understand, but to truly comprehend. But when I go down that path, it often costs me my peace of mind.
Ary, one of my longest and closest friends, once said, “Empathy is good. But yours can be too much. Being too empathetic can make you lose yourself, blur your judgment, and make your assessment biased. Do better, Ega.”
Maybe that’s why I keep failing in romantic relationships. I empathize too much, too soon, and then I lose myself in the process. Then I realize—I can also be the common denominator in my failed relationships. And I take accountability for that.
As I said, I’m no better than anyone else.
And as a lifelong learner, sometimes… it demotivates me.
I thought I had made peace with the idea that I might not find my person.
I thought I had found contentment living just by myself, with my cat, Bella.
I thought I had learned from my mistakes.
But hey… at least I’ve tried my best.
All the hard work I’ve been doing—with myself, for myself—and applying it in my daily life… it wasn’t in vain.
I think I’m having a love hangover right now. The turbulence I went through last month shook me to my core. And right now, there’s nothing else I can do except keep moving forward.
But this time… I’m going to go as slow as I can.
Ubud, 4th May 2026
“Nafas” Dipha Barus & Hindia
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