I’ve fallen in love twice. Once when I was very young – 16 in fact – and it was one of the most overwhelming and confusing times of my life. The other time was much more recent – three years ago when I was at University. This was much more straight-forward and comforting, and I felt like I finally knew what all those songs played on Magic FM at 1.00am were about. But when they ended, by Christ Almighty did they hurt.
Being in love is one of the most uplifting and magical feelings a person can have. It feels like you’re being wrapped in a big, warm, soft towel straight out of the bath, or getting into crisp, clean bed linen after you’ve shaved your legs, or having that first spoonful of melted chocolate when PMT is being a complete and utter bitch. Nobody can tell you any different to what you know, which is that you are soaring on Cloud Nine and this person, the Ron to your Hermione, is everything you will ever need.
But sometimes, whether you are expecting it or not, when it all comes to an end, reality doesn’t half slap you like a bitch. Whether there’s infidelity, constant arguing, overwhelming control issues or even if there’s just no spark anymore, there are very few things that people can say to convince you that it will get better. But it does. Oh God, it really does.
When my heart was broken the first time I was nothing more than a pathetic puddle of tears and anxiety. I was 17 years old and, although we both knew our situation was only temporary and he was – and remains to this day – one of my dear friends, there was absolutely no consoling me. Luckily, I had an amazing group of girlfriends waiting for me with flowers, chocolates and a card telling me how much they loved me at school the next day (best boyfriend subs, ever). But I felt so utterly destroyed that I was adamant I would never let myself feel that way again.
That was, until I fell in love again.
Now, I didn’t think it was possible, but this one hurt even more. Weeks of restless nights, random outbursts of tears, anxiety and very little eating followed. I lost 9lbs in the two weeks after it ended (as shitty as it was, getting dumped really did do wonders for my figure). I couldn’t bare to leave the house incase I saw him, and although it was an amicable agreement and we separated as friends, I couldn't help but hate him for making me fall for him so hard that I couldn’t pick up the pieces when it crashed (not his fault, I know, but try telling an emotional woman that). Thankfully, I had the same group of amazing girlfriends – and one very cuddly housemate who kept feeding me Chinese food – to help me pick up said pieces and realise that actually, I am just one step closer to being happy again.
If you’ve been through (or are still going through) a break-up and have experienced the pain associated, you will know that as shitty and horrible and gross as it is, it’s part of life and nobody has a smooth sail all the way through. But if falling in love has taught me anything, it is that I am one f***ing strong woman and I can take any shit that this world throws at me, because if I can overcome those feelings, oh honey I can take on the world. And it should tell you exactly the same.
So, your Survival Kit 101 for mending a broken heart is as follows:
1. Surround yourself with your favourite people. You have no idea how much they will put everything into perspective.
2. Don’t starve yourself or binge eat. Honestly, neither option will make you feel any better. Stick to moderate rations and the occasional therapy session with Mr Ben and Mr Jerry.
3. For the love of God, don’t listen to an endless stream of soppy love songs from the 80s. I actually listened to a lot of Ludovico Einaudi, a relaxing tempo was quite distracting. Highly recommend.
4. Tell yourself every day that you are one step closer to being over it. You will feel like you’re talking a bit of arse, but one day you will actually believe it and believe me it is so empowering.
It’s not all a ballet-dancing, romantic-singing, puppy-cuddling love story in life, but batting out a home run when the Universe throws its shit at you will make you feel better than Andy Murray when he fiiiinnaalllyyy took home that Wimbledon trophy. This is coming from an overthinking, overemotional sack of sad potatoes, but trust me, it is possible; I’ve done it twice.
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