Queen of the rumination
By: Recent Ex-Girlfriend
Tags: Breakups, Self Improvement, Humor, Mental Health, Relationships

One piece of advice that I do like from the self-help world is this: when you find yourself rejected and heartbroken focus not on what went wrong (everything), what you did wrong (absolutely nothing), what you were rejected for (%#*?!), but on your strengths.

Usually in this situation we are instructed to focus on what we love about ourselves, as if the things we love about ourselves are not feeling really really butt-hurt right now…

But, strength! Strength is something else. Take love out of the equation and we get to think simply about what we are GOOD at. Doesn’t matter how useful it is. Doesn’t matter whether or not it makes us more or less lovable. Doesn’t matter if we love it about ourselves. What. A. Relief.

You know what I am good at? You know what MY strength is?

Rumination.

I can ruminate all day long. I can ruminate with one hand tied behind my back. With both eyes closed. I am so good at ruminating I don’t even have to try. I am SO good at it that I can do it even when I don’t want to. No self-discipline required, for me it is a natural talent — it’s innate.

I eat, sleep, and breath rumination. Put me in a room with Woody Allen or Charlie Kaufman — I guarantee you I’ll ruminate them under the table. They’ve got nothing on me.

Some people might (I mean they have many times) accuse me of overthinking things.

Well, I say to that: No, sir! You’re under thinking! (No, seriously, you are.)

Get on board! The Rumin Nation is the place to be!

And here I am the QUEEN.

The Rumin Nation is where memories and imagination collide — where fantasy and mystery embark on great adventure — where all the people of my past live, my subjects — to serve me, and pleasure me, to take their punishments accordingly when they disobey.

I sit on my throne — in my pajamas, effortlessly anxiety ridden, twirling my hair, or picking at my cuticles (also great strengths of mine)— of hours, while I watch the subjects of my Rumin Nation go about their lives.

And here I get to have the last word whenever I want to. Have whatever conversation I want over and over and over again. Here I can punch the boss who fired me, or refuse the love of my life groveling at my feet to win me back. I can flip out dramatically, I can break stuff, I can yell, I can have the sassiest and most clever clap back you’ve ever heard — that never came in time in real life (where instead of saying anything at all I just ran to the bathroom crying).

Or, if I feel like it — I can cry. I can relive all the humiliation, all the times I failed to stand up for myself, or the times I didn’t get what I want, and I can do it over and over and over again. I can pick it all apart until it’s an unrecognizable mess, and then, because I can do whatever I want in the land of Rumin Nation, I can start all over because there’s an endless supply of horrible experiences to decimate.

Now, many people (including actual mental health professionals) will say that rumination is exactly what one should STOP doing in order to get well after a bad breakup or any traumatic experience. “Don’t get stuck there,” they say. “It will keep you from moving on.”

They are right. I don’t think that I’ve moved on from a goddamn thing in my goddamn life. How could I when everything (and everyone) is alive and well in the Rumin Nation?

I do try and leave my Queendom from time to time. Which is really quite a feat because my other strengths include: Procrastination, being afraid of failure, not doing the dishes or cleaning the house, getting stuck in bed, watching too much TV, putting off writing, and generally not knowing what to do with myself. And when I do leave I usually have a grand old time enjoying laughter with friends, love with lovers, productivity and creativity with jobs — and lucky me, provides such a great bounty of new things to overthink about when I return to the Rumin Nation.

Maybe rumination is fucking terrible. Maybe it’s completely unhealthy. But, really, fuck it. It’s what I’m good at. It’s my strength, and if you’re like me, and your strength is often what you are shamed for, or is not highly valued, or valued at all in society — well then fuck it. Honor your strengths, no matter what they are. That’s all I’m really saying. Just because they’ll never make an Olympic sport out of it, just because it makes you intolerable to other people doesn’t mean shit. Your strengths might be fucking annoying sometimes, but they also might just save your life.