I’m 42 and my heart is still growing. All this breakup nonsense enlarges my empathy for hurt, my patience to listen, and my compassion for others. I feel like a reformed Grinch whose heart grew three sizes that Christmas day.
Physiologically, I try to push apart my ribs, straighten my back, and unlock my shoulders to make space for this growing heart. If you hear crackling, it is just me shifting my bones.
Psychologically, I try to prioritize people over projects, the personal over parties, and pleasure over profit. I know better what makes me happy – shared experiences with friends – and what I thought makes me happy but does not – the anonymous landscape of social events.
Both of my grandparents were generous hosts to their friends, grandchildren, and their grandchildren’s friends. I wish to follow their teachings. However, when the heart grows too large, old Dudeks suffer congenital heart problems and the threat of heart attacks.