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\u201c<\/span>Are you sure you\u2019re going to be okay to talk about this?\u201d the co-host of my podcast, <\/span>After Work Drinks,<\/span><\/i> asked for the hundredth time as we sat across from each other in our London studio. Her question was just as much for practicality reasons as it was to check on my emotional state: she\u2019s well aware that for the past six weeks, I haven\u2019t been able to speak about my relationship ending without breaking down crying and is equally aware that we have just one hour of allocated studio time for the week – half of which was used by me sobbing over tissues the week prior without any prompting.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n When I ended my four-year relationship at the end of November, on the other side of the world and in the middle of my first winter in London, I was prepared for the fact that I\u2019d miss my partner, who was my best friend and the person I\u2019d talked to every day, slept by every night and turned to for everything. But what I wasn\u2019t prepared for was the immediate influx of subliminal messages of failure and the social stigma that comes with being single in your late 20s. I wasn\u2019t prepared to feel just as physically ill as I did mentally and I absolutely wasn\u2019t prepared to feel the full force of depression for the first time in my life.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The last time I\u2019d been single, I was 22. I came out of my first serious relationship sad, lonely and confused as much as you\u2019d expect, but at the same time, I was excited for the future, deciding that I\u2019d spend some time alone and that the next time I chose to partner up, it would be the man I would eventually marry. To put it lightly, I\u2019m an incredibly optimistic planner – and, as you’ve likely picked up on, things didn’t go to plan.<\/span><\/p>\n The pain I\u2019ve felt over the past six weeks is like none I\u2019d ever felt before. It is incredibly similar to the grief I felt when my ex-boyfriend and later, my dad passed away, mixed with severe anxiety about the future and the fact that all the plans we\u2019d had were now no more. On top of it all, I felt an extreme sense of shame and failure: In our perfectly filtered world, where my friends were getting engaged and having children, I was coming to terms with the fact that I was now single, that the family I\u2019d created for myself was no more and that the biggest part of my life for the majority of a decade wasn\u2019t around anymore.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The stigma that surrounds women who are single at this age is incredibly aggravating. While a man who\u2019s single at 30 just \u2018hasn\u2019t settled down yet,\u2019 a woman is looked at as if there\u2019s something wrong with her, as if she has an incurable disease and should be pitied. Men\u2019s examples are the likes of Leonardo DiCaprio, while women\u2019s are the likes of Bridget Jones. Even Emma Watson, a smart, accomplished, beautiful woman admitted to struggling with an \u201cincredible amount of anxiety\u201d about turning 30 without a partner.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Though I was prepared to feel pretty upset mentally, I had no idea the pain would be so literal – vomiting, cramps, migraines, ulcers, acne and an eye that sent me to the ER for 12 hours. But, as I found out firsthand, heartbreak can be incredibly physical. According to psychologist Dr Guy Winch, author of the book <\/span>How To Fix A Broken Hear<\/span><\/i>t<\/span><\/a>, when we are heartbroken our brains respond the same way as addicts withdrawing from Class A drugs, such as heroin.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n