Happy New Year! It’s time for a change – time to join a gym and break-up with your boyfriend. Maybe you already broke up over the holidays. I seem to recall hearing a statistic about more relationships end during holidays than other times of the year. “Honey, happy holidays and by the way I’m leaving you.”

Perhaps you’re still stuck wondering whether or not to end your relationship. Will the grass be greener without him? Or possibly the break-up has happened and you’re feeling wrecked or numb or relieved. How will you get through all this grief? What if you’re making the wrong decision? And if you live together, who gets the dinnerware or CD collection or microsuede sofa? Regardless if you’re questioning the end or if it’s already over, break-ups are complicated, confusing, and rarely clean.

My first long-term relationship ended a number of years ago and I sometimes still feel saddened. Why did the relationship end? Usually there are not easy answers to this question. We often are left to wonder “why?” and “what if?” What if we didn’t move in together so quickly? What if we went to couples counseling? What if I changed? What if he wasn’t such an asshole? (Notice how it’s much easier to think that he was the asshole.)

Break-ups are hard to forget and impact our lives profoundly. There is nothing forgetful or subtle about being crushed and distanced from the one you loved most. It’s quite sobering to witness a shared future evaporate. And if you were really committed, then uncommitting feels like reversing your blood flow – it goes against your heart’s contract and hope.

My first heart-wrenching break-up happened while living in New York. I had a classic, short-lived whirlwind affair with a NYU anthropology student who smoked clove cigarettes, introduced me to the I Ching and tabbouleh, and resembled Brad Pitt circa Thelma and Louise. (No, I am not making this crazy story up.) After we parted, he suffered a nervous breakdown and decided to hitchhike to California. The tragic romantic in me likes to imagine his breakdown was because he couldn’t live without my love – I know that’s not true.

I remember saying goodbye to him in New York’s Port Authority at 3 AM. The scene was surreal. I was crying, he was smoking, and a metal trash barrel had caught fire next to us. Three homeless people were breaking to Grandmaster Flash’s White Lines. The flames burned wildly, smoke filled the terminal, and he walked up the escalator after our final goodbye. The image of him wearing camouflaged khaki shorts floating up the escalator is forever burned in my memory. He never turned around like lovers do in the movies; he never looked back – just floated away.

These goodbye moments are momentous. They wake us up. They devastate us. They humble our hearts. In the spirit of Hamlet, I rewrite those famous words, “To be loved or not to be loved. Isn’t that the question?” After all without love, what’s the point? Don’t you just want to die? Doesn’t suicide suddenly seem plausible? Life as you have known it is over. Hello to grief. Hello to unknown future. Hello to dining alone. I’m reminded of a line from an Anne Sexton poem, “The end of the affair is always death.”

I’m not trying to paint a disastrous, exaggerated scene about endings. I’m not endorsing Sunset Boulevard’s Norma Desmond and her bandaged wrists, nor her miserable writhing and wailing for “Ooh Joe.” I’m saying realistically break-ups suck and are final! They feel like death.

So how do you move on with life after witnessing your own funeral? First eat many pints of Häagen-Dazs and listen to a few hundred I-can’t-live-without-you-because-you’re-the-only-reason-I-breathe love songs. Also try breaking a couple things like picture frames or serving platters or the corny snow-globe from the amazing weekend getaway to Santa Fe. After gaining 10 lbs (or 30lbs) and breaking a few mementos, then start accepting reality – it’s over!

Be honest with your grief and conflicted feelings. You appreciate him. You love him. You hate him. You’re relieved. You’re angry. You’re sad. You’re regretful. You forgive him. You wish him dead. You wish him well. You don’t fucking care anymore (but you do, and you don’t, and you do, uggh!).

Eventually after the emotions calm, the grief clouds will begin to part. There are no guarantees when sunshine will return, grief is on its own watch; but be assured this process is normal and universal and life does get better.

You might start noticing brief periods of newly found independence and freedom or feeling relieved the relationship is over. I remember dancing at Big Chicks in Chicago to Kelly Clarkson after my last break-up. The beats pumped out these lyrics, “But since you’ve been gone, I can breathe for the first time, I’m so moving on, yeah yeah. Thanks to you. Now I get what I want. Since you’ve been gone.”

Think of grieving as joining an emotional gym. Membership builds emotional muscles, stretches you beyond your fears, and tones your capacity for relating to others. Just like Pilates, grieving strengthens your core. I encourage all of us to feel our suffering and grief because getting through it has purpose. One day you’ll be ready to love again. Until then be gentle with yourself; you’re hurting.

There’s a cliché saying about other fish in the sea that I guess holds true for all of us (not just lesbians). For example, you might notice the art student barista at Starbucks on Broad and Pine smiling at you while foaming your latte and think to yourself, “I like how he steams milk; I’m ready to start dating again.” (Dear Barista Boy, I actually had an Americano not a latte and we joked about how we find Celine Dion embarrassing yet both secretly love her. Call me 215.983.9407.)

Now go out there and love each other.

Alan Robarge is a Philadelphia-based Psychotherapist in private practice and also offers an on-going relationship discussion group for gay men titled Boyfriend University. Learn more at http://www.alanrobarge.com or http://www.boyfriend-university.com