At the Y pool, 7:00 AM on a Wednesday morning, my lane stretches before me.

I’m in the chilly water, kept at what I’m told is “competition temperature,” a shock to me my first time here. Nothing to do but swim, swim, swim to try to stay as warm as possible. I’m the only swimmer who has pulled a long sleeved swim shirt over her suit, in addition to wearing  swim pants reaching to my calves. After weeks of swimming, I am still not accustomed to the cold water.

I wanted to slide into that Restoration Hardware bedding in your four-poster bed and never leave. My head would’ve sunk into that big pillow as I closed my eyes, waiting for you to crawl in beside me. I possessed a strong desire to have you hold me for twenty-four hours or forever. I’m that young girl again, longing for an emptiness to be filled.

When I was younger my mom called me Skinny Minnie. I’m not sure what she meant by this or why she called me it, but I know that I was confused. Even at a young age, I thought it was weird to have a nickname revolving around my weight -- especially because I wasn’t even particularly skinny; I was completely average.

I started meditating to try to get more focus and ease some of the edgy anxiety that’s always been native to my personality. I used HeadSpace, an app created by Andy Puddicome, to try to get a handle on it. I wasn’t a natural. I’d sit still. Breathe. But my brain jumped relentlessly from one set of thoughts to another.

The funny thing about heartbreak is it never goes away. Nothing is ever left the same. With each subsequent heartbreak, you lose more pieces of yourself that you won’t ever get back. Your body will adapt to work with less of your heart, but the dull ache of feeling less-than-whole will always be there.