I vividly remember my first heartbreak. I was sixteen years old, and my very first relationship came to an end shortly after the start of the school year. As Valentine’s Day rolled around, my mother spent the entire day making sure I felt loved. She bought me tons of gifts and was extra attentive. But honestly, I remember feeling a little guilty accepting all of her tokens of affection because I wasn’t as sad as she perceived me to be. From a young age, I didn’t see the value in spending a lot of time dwelling in sadness over being single. I loved who I was, and I valued the…