Woman holding neon heart. Photo by DESIGNECOLOGIST on Unsplash

What’s it like to love again after loss?

I don’t know – I haven’t quite got there yet. I have, however, had some experience in putting myself back out there, as people say: which is a little bit misleading, as I was never really out there in the modern sense of being on the dating scene. Dating culture in the UK is hugely different from the last time I was single, back in 2007. People didn’t use dating apps, because they didn’t exist. Some people used OkCupid, with its complex quizzes to find compatible partners, or if they felt particularly erudite signed up for Guardian Soulmates. Most British people my age, however, just ended up snogging someone they’d known for a while once they’d plucked up enough courage and had a couple of drinks, and after that happened a couple more times you were pretty much an item. I’m not saying it was better. It was just different!

Anyway, when I decided my heart was finally in the right kind of place, I downloaded a couple of dating apps. 95% of my usage was screenshotting particularly objectionable profiles to show my friends. 5% resulted in some pleasant conversations, a few dates, and one six-month relationship which has sadly just ended.

What have I learned so far, which might also be useful to other people on this grief journey?

When do you know it’s the right time? For me, the right time to start dating was when I felt emotionally stable, when I had worked through some important issues in my grief including feelings of abandonment (very typical in bereavement, especially suicide bereavement, even if you know it’s not “logical”), and importantly when my self-esteem was high. It’s tempting to download an app when you are feeling low and lonely, but I beg you – please don’t. Send that cute selfie to your best friends and tell them to lavish you in compliments. The dopamine hit will be healthier than the one you might get from a stranger, and it won’t come with the risk of crushing rejection.

How do you handle telling your loved ones, especially your spouse’s family? This is tricky. Your personal business is your own, and you shouldn’t feel obliged to tell anyone about your private life that you don’t want to. I do think it’s sensible to keep things relatively quiet when you first dip your toe into the pond. Other people’s opinions can be a lot to juggle when you’re trying something new. What about if you establish a relationship, though? It can be hard to tell people who loved your deceased partner that you are seeing other people. I often see advice online saying “just live your life, people who love you will understand!” but this feels a bit reductive. Human relationships are complex! It’s possible for people to be happy for you and also feel grief! Everyone’s emotions may feel messy and complicated for a while, so perhaps the best thing to do is just be honest and respectful while setting boundaries that work for you. I think I made a few mistakes here, as I tried to please too many people at once and ended up pleasing no one. But we figured it out, and you will too.

What if your relationship ends? The last time I was single, I was 24. I broke up with the boyfriend I’d been living with, and I could lie in bed for a couple of days crying and eating Nutella out of a jar because I was doing my PhD and I didn’t have many other obligations. The sucky thing about managing heartache now is that I have a busy job with many imminent deadlines, a child who needs my care and attention, and a home to run. It’s quite a different experience, in practical and also emotional terms. Some people find that the end of a relationship stirs up grief, that heartbreak feels like a painful shadow of that greater loss. Others find that in light of their other experiences, their hearts are more resilient, better able to weather a storm.

What have I found? That like all losses, no amount of seeing it coming quite prepares you for the heart-jolt of an ending. What my great loss has taught me, though, is that pain passes; and that loving – or at least liking someone very much – necessarily requires taking a risk of hurt. So I suppose that is the main lesson I want to pass on here. Don’t go looking for love when you feel desperate for it, in the times when your heart is crying in the night from loneliness, when your body feels like it cannot bear to be alone. Don’t look for love when you want it to act as a bolster between you and your pain. Look for love when your heart feels wide open: not just to romance, but to the other opportunities your new life offers. Look for love when you know that you may get hurt again, and again, and that you now have the strength to bear it. Look for love when you love yourself enough to end things if they hurt you, or if they no longer serve your needs.

I’m glad I took a risk – an educated, careful, calculated one, made with my own needs in mind. It was successful, because a relationship doesn’t have to be forever to matter. It reminded me of a few things I’d forgotten about myself, and taught me some new things too. My heart was wide open. My heart is still wide open. I hope I keep giving that gift to myself. I hope you can give yourself that gift, too.

Resources

Widowed and Young supports people under 50 who are widowed in the UK, and offers invaluable peer-to-peer support.

Cruse, the bereavement charity, offer advice here on starting a new relationship after loss.

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