I am a really bad breaker-upper. I mean, full out emotional psychosis. Like most of my intense emotions, if I let them push through and out, I may look like I need to be committed for a brief period, but following that, everything settles and I can sweep up the detritus and move on. I know some people suck it up, but frankly, I must have more of my mother in me than I thought, because I watched both of my parents deal with strong emotions... she was histrionic, though I suspect sometimes she wasn't honest, even with herself. Dad may have been honest about what he felt, but you had to chip it out of him with a pick axe.
I fall into a well of myself, hitting the sides all the way down.
Going through grief again, I've had one of those little epiphanies about relationships ending, and what it means to me. I discovered, to my shame, that while of course there is the heartbreak aspect, the loss of love (or what was imagined to be love at the time), change in venue, alteration of schedule, etc... but the hardest part for me was a sense of failure, and that made me roaringly angry at a deep level, almost every time. I could minimize the other person's culpability simply because, well, I felt responsible for the success of the relationship, it was my job. And we all know how OCD I can be about making sure whatever I've committed myself to works.
Ultimately, I think that may be why I am often reluctant to commit. Because when I do, there is no part of me that isn't all in, and you can butter my butt and call me a biscuit before I'll flush something I've put myself on the line for. If it ultimately doesn't work out, there's going to be a drama llama dancing on my doorstep for a while afterward.