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- Jul 14, 2008
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Jamus talks about his past break-up.
One of the darkest moments in my life happened around the third year of grad school in the United States. I had just completed my qualifying exams (yay!), and advanced to PhD candidacy (this means that you enjoy significant relief in tuition fees, and also get to call yourself ABD—“All But Dissertation”). I called my then-girlfriend—whom I had been dating for the past five years or so—to share the happy news.
As it turned out, she had been waiting for my big exam to conclude, before sharing with me that she had decided to move on. I was devastated, of course. This wasn’t a teenage romance, and I genuinely believed then that she was the person that I was destined to marry. We both knew that long-distance relationships were difficult to sustain, but it had persisted for so long that I had come to believe that it would all work out.
It is said that it takes at least an extra month to get over every additional year of being with someone. So I was due for around half a year of pain and anguish. Although I was supposed to launch right into my research, it became impossible; any extended time of pondering led me to dwell on the lost relationship. Eventually, I made do by immersing myself in more coursework, which I reasoned would at least keep me busy, while offering the opportunity to meet new people.
Broken relationships aren’t an uncommon experience for most people. Still, it was a very rough time for me. My faith was challenged, and I found little comfort in the distractions that I had set up for myself. My studies seemed to be meaningless, and I even started to blame the failure of our relationship on the fact that I had chosen to study abroad. I spent a lot of time alone, floating in a mental haze: going for long walks in the woods, listening to sappy jazz songs about breakup, nursing drinks till closing on Sunday night at the bar.
I eventually emerged from my funk when I was able to settle my raging emotions, and be at peace within (and yes, it took about six months). I learned to be comfortable in solitude, rather than sad. I found the release that allowed me to enjoy solo hikes, rainy day jazz, and lonely drinks. The failed relationship taught me how to find myself again.
For all those who are in a challenging moment of your own, I hope you come to the same realization as I did: that there is a future, with you in it, that is surrounded once again by laughter and contentment and solace. I hope you will find it, either on your own, or with the help of others who love you and care for you and want you to return from that dark place. #RedefiningFailure
Postscript: As it turns out, I took so many classes from my attempt at distraction that I ended up with enough credits to qualify for an additional masters in politics, which I petitioned for (and received). And of course, I eventually met my lovely wife a few years thereafter, when I no longer felt the need for someone to “complete” me.
Jamus Lim
12 hrs ·One of the darkest moments in my life happened around the third year of grad school in the United States. I had just completed my qualifying exams (yay!), and advanced to PhD candidacy (this means that you enjoy significant relief in tuition fees, and also get to call yourself ABD—“All But Dissertation”). I called my then-girlfriend—whom I had been dating for the past five years or so—to share the happy news.
As it turned out, she had been waiting for my big exam to conclude, before sharing with me that she had decided to move on. I was devastated, of course. This wasn’t a teenage romance, and I genuinely believed then that she was the person that I was destined to marry. We both knew that long-distance relationships were difficult to sustain, but it had persisted for so long that I had come to believe that it would all work out.
It is said that it takes at least an extra month to get over every additional year of being with someone. So I was due for around half a year of pain and anguish. Although I was supposed to launch right into my research, it became impossible; any extended time of pondering led me to dwell on the lost relationship. Eventually, I made do by immersing myself in more coursework, which I reasoned would at least keep me busy, while offering the opportunity to meet new people.
Broken relationships aren’t an uncommon experience for most people. Still, it was a very rough time for me. My faith was challenged, and I found little comfort in the distractions that I had set up for myself. My studies seemed to be meaningless, and I even started to blame the failure of our relationship on the fact that I had chosen to study abroad. I spent a lot of time alone, floating in a mental haze: going for long walks in the woods, listening to sappy jazz songs about breakup, nursing drinks till closing on Sunday night at the bar.
I eventually emerged from my funk when I was able to settle my raging emotions, and be at peace within (and yes, it took about six months). I learned to be comfortable in solitude, rather than sad. I found the release that allowed me to enjoy solo hikes, rainy day jazz, and lonely drinks. The failed relationship taught me how to find myself again.
For all those who are in a challenging moment of your own, I hope you come to the same realization as I did: that there is a future, with you in it, that is surrounded once again by laughter and contentment and solace. I hope you will find it, either on your own, or with the help of others who love you and care for you and want you to return from that dark place. #RedefiningFailure
Postscript: As it turns out, I took so many classes from my attempt at distraction that I ended up with enough credits to qualify for an additional masters in politics, which I petitioned for (and received). And of course, I eventually met my lovely wife a few years thereafter, when I no longer felt the need for someone to “complete” me.