Written by: Rob Aurelius, Founding Publisher
It’s been now over a year since my life changed. One year since the breakup. One year since the silence. One year since I last heard her voice.
And yet, it feels like both yesterday and a lifetime ago. I remember it so clearly—how I thought I was building a future, how I had planned to propose on November 20, 2024. That moment was supposed to mark a new beginning. Instead, it never came. And on March 21, 2024, after a two-hour and twenty-two-minute phone call, the relationship that meant everything to me ended. Since April 2024, she’s never spoken to me again. No message. No closure. Just silence.
At first, I fought it. I tried to understand how someone who once cared for me could walk away so easily. I replayed memories, questioned everything I said and did, and held onto hope that maybe she’d come back. But days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months. Her silence was louder than any words she could’ve said. And it taught me one of the hardest lessons of my life: sometimes the people we love the most are not meant to stay. And sometimes, they choose not to.
That realization broke me. I didn’t eat. I didn’t sleep. I spiraled emotionally and mentally. I was in the middle of what should have been my healing journey, yet I was projecting my pain, battling depression, and trying to function in a world that suddenly felt darker. And yet—through that pain—I knew I needed to do something with the pieces left behind.
That’s when The Resilient Podcast was born.
It premiered on April 19, 2024—just a month after the breakup—at a time when I could barely hold myself together. I didn’t have all the answers. I was still bleeding emotionally. But I knew I wasn’t alone. I knew others were suffering, too. And I believed that if I could be brave enough to share my story, maybe someone else would find the strength to keep going.
Now, here I am. One year later. Episode 28 just aired. We’re celebrating the podcast’s first anniversary. And if I’m being honest, it feels both beautiful and bittersweet.
So much has happened in this past year—internally and externally. I faced demons I didn’t even know I still carried. I mourned not just the loss of a relationship, but the future I had planned. I had to accept that closure may never come. I had to find a way to keep breathing, to keep believing, and to keep showing up for myself and others.
That’s why I launched The Resilience Tribune on November 19, 2024—her birthday. It was the day before the engagement was supposed to happen. A day I knew would be filled with pain. But I didn’t want to just sit in that darkness. I wanted to turn it into something meaningful. I wanted to create a platform where people could share their stories of heartbreak, survival, and rebirth—because there are too many people suffering in silence. Too many people whose mental health goes unnoticed, unacknowledged, or dismissed. I’ve lost people to suicide. I’ve seen what happens when empathy disappears. And I couldn’t stay quiet anymore.
This world we’re living in—it’s cold. Empathy feels like it’s at an all-time low. I’ve realized that many adults, no matter their age, never learned how to truly feel for others. Some can’t take accountability. Some don’t even try. Others are too damaged themselves to know how they’re hurting people. And then there are those who just don’t care at all. That kind of emotional apathy? It’s dangerous. It creates wounds that last a lifetime.
But I also believe healing is possible. Growth is possible. Forgiveness is possible—even if we never receive the apologies we deserve.
As we approach Mental Health Awareness Month in May, I’m committing to making an even bigger impact. I’m using this platform not just to reflect, but to help others who are fighting invisible battles. I know what it’s like to wake up and feel like you can’t move forward. I know what it’s like to love someone so deeply that their absence becomes a shadow you can’t escape. And I know what it’s like to look in the mirror and not recognize the person staring back at you. But I also know what it means to survive that.
And survival doesn’t always look like strength—it sometimes looks like tears in a hotel room, a quiet flight back home, or a walk through a crowd when your heart feels heavy. I felt all of that during my recent trip to Las Vegas.
I went there to film Episode 28 of The Resilient Podcast, a special episode titled “One Year Later: How The Resilient Podcast Helped Me Find Healing Through Heartbreak.” It was an emotional chapter of my journey, but something else happened in Vegas that hit just as hard—watching Cody Rhodes lose the Undisputed WWE Championship after a historic year-long reign. I was there, in the crowd, when John Cena made history and became a 17-time world champion. The energy was electric, but my heart sank watching Cody fall.
And yet, there was something poetic about it.
Because in that moment, I realized that even champions stumble. Even those who inspire millions can fall short. And just like Cody, I’ve had moments where I felt on top of the world, only to be brought down by life’s unexpected turns. But here’s the thing: it’s not over. His story continues. And so does mine.
Cody, if you ever read this—thank you. Thank you for being a symbol of perseverance, passion, and purpose. You reminded me that losing doesn’t mean it’s the end. It just means the next chapter is about to begin. We’re just getting started.
Next month, I turn 39. And as I prepare for my 40s, I’m no longer chasing perfection. I’m chasing peace. I want to become a man of strength, a man of love, a man of integrity—someone emotionally intelligent, self-aware, and free from self-loathing and toxicity. I’ve carried those things for too long. I’m ready to let them go.
I may never fully get over what happened. But I’m learning how to live with it. I’m learning how to grow from it. And most importantly, I’m learning how to use it to help others.
One year later, the pain is still there. But so is the purpose. And that, to me, is the definition of resilience.
