Heartbreak Broken hearts and divorce

When a loving relationship ends in divorce or separation, it is experienced in the same way, with the same
degree of grief, as a death. In many ways it may be more devastating, as there is no closure. No matter
how final it may appear, there is always that faint hope that they may come back. There is a possibility that
something may change; because where there is life, there is hope.

With death, it is healing to talk about what a great person they were and everyone recounts stories of good
times. We all refer to the fine characteristics of the deceased and not a harsh word will be uttered. We try
to keep the dead alive and may place photos near our beds, wear sentimental jewellery, and perhaps, hold
on to pieces of clothing that he wore. We might even raise a glass to him on his birthday and Christmas.

It’s quite different when a relationship dies. Family and friends will usually be supportive and sympathetic,
but there are no cards, no flowers, and no time-out to recover. We are not encouraged to talk about him,
and if anything, we are shut down, and advised to dismiss or deny our memories or sentimentalities. Well
meaning friends will try to accelerate your disconnection by reminding you about what a cad he was.

We are advised to wipe him out. “You were too good for him”, they like to say, and There are plenty
more fish in the sea. He was selfish, weak, inconsiderate and controlling. He was a cheat and a liar, and
you are well rid of him. And it’s all true, and you know it. “But…”, you hear yourself say, and you reach
for a weak argument or defence. There is no justification and you know it, and you can’t say what you
really think, because even in the silence of your mind, you know it sounds pathetic. It’s there though and it
escapes without censor, and then the words hang there, like slow motion alphabet spelling out, “But…I still
love him”.

You see the disappointment in their eyes and feel the humiliation well up inside you, and you remind
yourself again how desperate and insignificant you really are. You make a mental note to yourself, “Don’t
say that out loud ever again, don’t even allow yourself to think it again - keep telling yourself, it’s over, until
you believe it”.

So, plan B: “I hate him, I never want to see him again, I don’t know what I ever saw in him, he is scum,
and I will never, never take him back.”

Plan C: Enter the actress: New hairdo, new clothes, weight loss and party, party, party. “Who? Oh yeah, I
used to have a scene with him, big mistake, what a loser.”

At some point, we manage to split our life into two realities. Our external face presents well, and for all
appearances, we seem to have gotten over it. We rarely, if ever, mention him, and when we do - it's in
cool tones. We are back in the game and might have begun dating again or become involved in some new
hobby or interest, and, all in all, we may appear to be doing well and moving on. Our second life – our
secret life - plays itself out within our imagination. At home, alone and private, our love is as real and as
powerful as ever. Perhaps it’s even better than it ever was; alone in bed and silent - he comes…

Within the imagination, I can see you so clearly, hear you, with an honesty that our egos would never have
allowed us to speak, touch you without inhibition into places deep within you. In my imagination, I know
you at your core and I know your history and your future. In my imagination, we communicate in a
different realm, our original source, a place where you and I are one and the same. Love is love here, not
an agenda and not an event. It is a language, and it is a state of being, it is who we really are, and it is a
Universe within itself. This is my soul and your soul - merged, and it is more real to me than life.

In my physical reality, I struggle and judge you. Your behaviour confuses me and my logical mind insists
that you will destroy me. You threaten my sense of safety by annihilating my self-esteem. You treat me as
unworthy and unlovable, and expose my weaknesses and vulnerabilities.

I wonder about your emotional baggage. I justify your aloofness, detachment and cruelty. I convince
myself that you are ‘The One’, but you are too afraid or damaged to love me. On this level, I strive to
leave you, and I am mentally, emotionally and physically detaching from you. It is quite possible that
sometime not too far away, I will be over you. I may accept that you are not meant for me, this time
around.

Most of the time, I am on top of this. I have now mastered the art of crying inside and smiling outside. I
have a list of ‘our stuff,’ like our songs, our movies and places. I see you in places where you used to be
and I hear words you once said. Songs on the radio bring you alive again and put us back in that moment.
I have heard myself say to myself, “I would crawl across cut glass to get to you, lie naked in the snow for
you, and I would sell my soul to the devil, if he would just bring you back again, the way you were, when
you loved me.”

Great minds have pondered the nature of love. Many were arrogant enough to pose an answer. I too, have
dissected and inspected the fragments and postulated theories. I too, have concluded that it is a simple
state of insanity, a chemical anomaly or a primal instinct for procreation. I have wondered about magnetism
and sub-conscious parental associations. I have judged it as a form of narcissism or an attraction to my
own potential. I have played with the idea that love is nothing more than a learning experience. People
come into our lives to teach us and then leave when the lesson is completed. I have also wondered about
past-life theories and accepted that intense love may relate to unresolved past life issues. It may be any, all,
or none of these, and knowing for sure would probably make very little difference.

At its most difficult, love is an addiction, an obsession and a soul destroying experience. When love dies or
love is not requited, it is quite possibly more painful and longer lasting than losing someone through death –
in a way, it really is a death.

Some people say that with physical death, the soul of the person leaves the body. It is explained as an
energy rising out and merging into the atmosphere. When love dies, we experience a similar sensation, a
great loss of energy. We physically experience a loss of vitality and become exhausted and weak for some
time. Mentally, we become muddled and need to use a great amount of energy to remain focused. This
energetic concept is rarely, if ever, considered when we are trying to get through heartbreak.

Loss of love feels like the loss of the soul.

Click the NEXT button to go to Part 2
Copyright Sonya Green

Did you ever meet your Mr Big - The Love of your Life – your Soul Mate?
Did something within you rise up and insist, ‘This is the one, this is forever or
this is divine destiny.’ Poems and love songs express it all with, “You were
meant for me and I was born to love you.”

Love and death are the two life experiences which really compel us to look at
life and the nature of reality. The loss of love, such as a divorce, the end of a
relationship or even an unrequited love can be as devastating as losing
someone through death. We try to be rational and look for answers from an
intellectual viewpoint, but we rarely, if ever, find satisfaction or resolution. At
best, we may decide that, “It’s just the way things go, get over it and move
on”. Through some force of mental discipline, we suck it down and convince
ourselves that we have accepted and recovered from our loss.

There is nothing quite like a funeral to bring up the big questions. We find
ourselves processing our thoughts from a place outside the intellectual
framework. A subtle and intangible sensing seems to come into play. We feel
that our relationship continues outside of the physical realm. We may find
ourselves wondering, “Could it be some kind of primal instinct, a spiritual
communication or something along the lines of mystical or psychic
phenomena?”

People say that when you’re dead, you’re dead; the afterlife theory is just
wishful thinking or the inability to accept what is. And yet, even if we say this,
and even if we truly believe this, there is still that X Factor. Pragmatic as we
think we are, we do find ourselves having telepathic conversations with the
dead. We still sense them around us, a kind of energetic awareness of their
presence.

When we have been deeply connected to another person we feel intrinsically
woven into them. We try to express this sense with statements like, “He was
a part of me” or “He completed me”. In death or divorce, it is common to
feel like you have lost a part of yourself.

In death, we take time to grieve. In effect, this is a period of physically,
mentally, emotionally and spiritually detaching from our bond. In a way, it is
very similar to withdrawing from an addiction. In the initial stages of grief, we
may feel like we are going insane. It’s as if every nerve within us becomes
raw and every sense is searching the air for a word or touch or sight of our
loved one. Every thought translates to “Come Back!” Physically, our energy
becomes totally depleted, and we find ourselves in a foetal position, obsessed
with conversations in our head, with someone we don’t really believe is gone.
Whether we admit it to ourselves or not, we do in fact believe that we are
capable of maintaining this relationship in an indefinable realm.

Something within us is certain that the spirit or soul lives on; that we can
maintain our connection through some unexplainable force of mind.

With death we do come to terms with the fact that we need to move on as
we accept that in this life at least, the person will not inhabit a physical form
again. With a physical death, we are usually supported by friends and family
and even society in general will make allowances and lend support to a
person if they know that they are grieving.

Many people also go through a stage in which they feel a great deal of anger,
totally abandoned, and in a way they feel betrayed. With time, this sorts itself
out. We will accept that they did not die on purpose, they did not maliciously
betray us nor did they choose to abandon us. With death, we are able to
continue loving the person and also are able to accept that they have gone.