We're all familiar with the songs, man or woman lamenting a broken heart. Soulful lyrics, maudlin' melodies discussing how hard it is that the person they loved has taken that love and thrown it back in their face. Bitterness, anger, despair, grief – all the emotions are there. And all the questions: where did it go wrong, what did I do wrong, why me?
And for most of us, we've probably been through that feeling at least once in our lives. Heartbreak is a crippling pain that may dull, but rarely retreats completely. It's always there, nagging in the background somewhere.
Yes, yes, so none of this is new. We know it's there, countless number ones have relied on the fact most of us have been through it.
But what is rarely spoken out, yet just as crushing, just as soul destroying, is when we have our hearts broken, not by a lover or a soulmate, but by a relative. These are the people we so often take for granted, who we assume should be “there” no matter what, the ones who will put up with our foibles and faults ad infinitum, and us them.
So what happens when they “finish things”? The realisation that someone has washed their hands of you, someone you thought would be there forever, is equally as crushing, no matter the connection.
Some might argue it's worse if it's family. It blindsides you, and it's unconventional – if you struggle to understand it, of course others will. Try explaining to someone that you're heartbroken because of the end of your relationship with you mother, father, sister, brother, child. It's an alien concept – far less people experience it than those who suffer the stereotype of heartbreak, and they will struggle to empathise with you.
And you'll struggle to understand it yourself. We're bombarded with films, music, novels, about romantic love and loss – how to mend a broken heart, how to find love again. Being rejected by someone you never ever expected to lose however, is less common. Oh they're out there; the stories, songs and series', but it's a struggle to convey, and to comprehend. We're conditioned to expect the possibility that relationships won't work out – but not relationships with family, the ones that are supposed to withstand any test. Those, we expect to survive anything, and when they don't, it's a tidal wave of emotion that completely knocks us for six.
But it happens, probably to more of us than we realise, when the efforts to heal the cracks fades, and the realisation sets in that it's over.
And how do you deal with it? I'm not sure “plenty more fish in the sea” applies in these cases. But one thing is similar, there's not much to be done other than try to deal with the pain and get on with things.
Perhaps the secret is to take nothing for granted. And no, blood isn't necessarily thicker than water......
