One way through heartbreak is to get back in touch with your sense of agency
Natasha Lunn's Heartbreak Seven
I am so, so thrilled to welcome Natasha Lunn to Instructions for Heartbreak today.
Natasha’s newsletter Conversations on Love started life many years ago - I’ve just searched through my inbox and found them going back to 2021, and it was already a beautifully established missive then. Natasha is a wonderful interviewer, always finding the most original and personal questions to ask people on this most multifaceted of subjects. What is the meaning of connection? How does love change over time? How does romantic love differ from familial love, and from the love between friends? And, of course - how do you navigate the loss of love?
Natasha was my dream guest from the moment I came up with the Heartbreak Seven, and I am beyond delighted that she’s sharing hers today. Do remember to subscribe to her newsletter, buy her book - and read on for the most elegant, thoughtful set of recommendations. Liv, who is maybe my favourite of the four girls - women - in my own book, has a particular soft spot for Little Women’s Amy too - and I like to think she had Greta Gerwig’s/ Florence Pugh’s version in mind.
Something to read
When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi.
This short, special book always makes me feel more determined to live the life that I’ve got as well as I can. It’s a good reminder that we cannot escape heartbreak if we are open to love — and this is a terrifying thing, but also a universal one, and something that connects us.
Something to listen to
‘Dancing in the Dark’ by Bruce Springsteen.
Just after I broke up with my University boyfriend, my brother put on Bruce Springsteen’s Dancing in the Dark and we danced together in his bedroom singing, You can't start a fire / Sittin' 'round cryin' over a broken heart. I felt so happy in that moment, despite having cried a few minutes before. The song fits that particular mood of heartbreak perfectly; when you’re sad, but you also know deep down that the ending is a new beginning. In moments like these, you get a surge of energy from the knowledge that you're going to make it through. You’re still sad, you’re also ready to let go, and you can start to hold the loss and the anticipation of what’s next in your mind simultaneously. Because you know that it’s true: There's somethin' happenin' somewhere / Baby, I just know that there is.
Something to watch
Greta Gerwig’s Little Women.
One way through heartbreak is to get back in touch with your sense of agency, and I think this version of Little Women invites that. There’s plenty to get lost in if you just need to escape your sadness: the gorgeous costumes, Timmy perfectly cast as Laurie, Florence Pugh’s incredible Amy, and all the joyful, chaotic scenes of March family life that capture the complexity and beauty of sibling love. But there’s also something about the way Greta writes about purpose and ambition that plugs you back into what you want to pursue in life. I think it’s because she puts ambition in a realistic context. She doesn’t ask her characters to choose between purpose and love. She also acknowledges how lonely life can be. Jo’s speech towards the end- and Saorise Ronan’s delivery of it - is such an accurate description of how it can feel to pursue love and ambition, to not want to be defined by love, but also to know that you need and crave connection. The truth in those lines makes space for you to feel all your emotions at once. Watching it feels like being understood, and I think that’s very comforting in the midst of heartbreak.
Something to eat
Or if there’s no Pecorino in the fridge, then just cheese, garlic, oil and pasta will do.
Something to drink
In my worst moments of heartbreak, I’ve always ordered a cold vodka martini. Unlike a margarita - a happy drink which I love the taste of - a martini feels medicinal. Perhaps it’s the pure instant hit of the vodka on the throat, which almost makes me wince, that distracts from any other feeling.
Somewhere to go
Anywhere that makes you feel small. I remember going to an art gallery once and standing in front of a huge painting that made me feel tiny, and that was helpful. The sea is another place I return to, or driving on a flat open road with the windows down with views for miles. I think when you’re heartbroken you lose perspective, and remembering that you’re a small part of a bigger world, full of lots of other heartbroken people, is a comforting thing.
A bonus seventh - balm for a broken heart
I think that dancing and singing and listening to music is the best way to make it through heartbreak. Music connects you to the best thing about those periods — how they make you feel more alive to the little details in life. That’s painful, because you feel so sensitive to everyone and everything, as if you might burst into tears if someone says the wrong thing. But you also notice so many new things around you because every emotion and sensation is heightened. You notice nature more, you feel the elements more, and when someone does offer you a kind gesture or word, those things seem more meaningful too, maybe because you need and appreciate them more. Music only intensifies all those feelings. Instead of avoiding the full pain of your feelings, it invites you to go all in, to feel them all fully. The freedom that comes with that process is exhilarating, and sad, and beautiful.
Photo by Robert Gareth on Unsplash.