
Heartbreak and Anxiety - A Delightful Pairing
It was 2011, and my 31st birthday was creeping around the corner. My boyfriend, the one I thought I’d spend my life with, was breaking up with me. It didn’t come out of nowhere - we’d been fighting for months. In hindsight, our relationship was shaky to start with, to say the least. A man in his late 30s who’d never had a relationship. I’ll change him, I thought. WHY DO WE THINK THIS? People aren’t projects, but we still treat them as such. Optimism (stupidity?) prevails. Meanwhile, I kept giving and giving, hoping he’d meet me halfway, but we were on completely different planets, let alone pages. I wanted commitment and connection. He gave me crumbs of affection when it suited him. I stayed longer than I should have because I was scared, perhaps I’d never meet anyone again (at 31! bless my tender heart). I wanted stability. Possibly a family one day.
The relationship had taken a toll on me, pushing my nervous system to its limits. I was at a breaking point. Despite my sadness and disbelief, part of me was relieved. I was tired of crumbs, and I was not ready to desert myself altogether. At least with him leaving, I told myself, I could slowly put my life back together.
But my anxiety had other plans.
No sooner had he packed his things and left than my mind tripped into full-blown panic mode. My balanced neurons had left the building; instead, came the party, unhinged ones. LET’S TEAR THIS PLACE APART. I could hear them screaming.
I had a lot on my plate. I had to find a new home. I was stuck in a temp job with no prospects. Nothing felt certain. And on top of that, I was utterly broken. The constant questioning and misalignment in the relationship had drained me, and now, as I tried to piece my life back together, my mental health took a spectacular nosedive.
Anxiety became my new stalker—relentless, insistent, and impossible to shake. Like a cold sore, on repeat. I couldn’t escape it, no matter what I did or where I went. It was so loud. I’d experienced situational anxiety before—driving tests, job interviews, first dates—but this was different. It was a sinister bugger and all-consuming.
Rest was out of the question. My nights were spent tossing and turning, haunted by the same relentless thoughts: I’m 31. I want kids. Who would want me now? I’m too old. I’m unlovable. Just as I’d start to drift off, my adrenaline would jolt me awake. WHAT NOW, SAMMY? WHAT NOW?
I started losing weight and looked awful. My mum noticed and begged me to come home. “I’ll pay your rent,” she said, “just get yourself back together.” I tried to reassure her - and myself - that I was okay. I wasn’t. But I couldn’t give in, I was too scared of what that might mean. Was I having a nervous breakdown?
References
- Heartbreak and Anxiety(https://substack.com/@sammybond?utm_source=user-menu)


