Being dumped is pretty shit at the best of times. And on the eve of Week 5 of Michaelmas term, just as dissertation deadlines are beginning to encroach, and as exam results are being released, it’s really quite a lot more shit than normal.

Meeting the end of a long-term relationship whilst at Cambridge brings about a different sort of heartbreak. When you’re struggling to get up and force yourself to eat breakfast, it’s unsurprisingly pretty difficult to churn out a 3,000 essay or smile your way through happy hour at Caius bar.

“Meeting the end of a relationship whilst at Cambridge brings about a different sort of heartbreak”

So what do we do? How on earth do we drag ourselves to the end of term, to reach that oh-so-longed-for time to rest, and really, time to properly recover. For me, for the first week or two, I transformed my room into a hermit’s shell, let myself wallow under a duvet and three blankets, and exclusively ate Pret pastries, Sainsbury’s ready meals, and Gardies burgers. In between bouts of feeling sorry for myself and complaining to my friends, I managed a couple of depressive emails to my DoS, and good amount of time ignoring mounting piles of washing up and laundry in the corner.

Despite how sorry I’ve been feeling for myself (and I really, really have been), I do know I’ve been pretty lucky in how my Cambridge experience has intersected with my break-up. My English degree has inevitably been a bit more forgiving of my lax approach to deadlines than the Medicine or NatSci tripos would have been. I’d also have been in a bit of a jam if my supervisors weren’t so enduringly compassionate in my moment(s) of self-pity and need (for extension deadlines). And to add to that, my family live close by, and have been willing to make the visit to see me and buy me a fair few pity presents.

“Sometimes you just need someone to sit down with you, listen to an excessively long rant, and then say something shockingly, unduly harsh about your ex. It’s healing”

Really, though, it’s my friends that have dragged me, kicking and screaming, through the really shitty bit, and into the light – by which I mean, into the phase where I don’t want to hurl myself into the Cam every time I walk past a couple holding hands in Market Square. The women who wouldn’t let me spend a minute alone in my break-up shock phase; who constantly affirmed that this would get better; and who have helped me back onto my feet and into the library are my saving grace. Having people just down the corridor who don’t mind you lying on their bed silently, apart from the occasional grunt of “this is so fucked,” makes the world of difference. Sometimes you just need someone to sit down with you, listen to an excessively long rant, and then say something shockingly, unduly harsh about your ex. It’s healing.

“Loneliness can fade into a simple, understated calmness at the thought of being alone”

When the shock – and horror – of the break-up began to fade, it left me flailing in the midst of Week 5, feeling really pretty lonely. There’s inevitably a horror in the little things – throwing out the mug they gave you, taking down the photos of them, and then sitting through those bitterly pointy moments where the sadness and rejection of being dumped feels just a bit too much. Those pointy moments get less painful, though. And more importantly, that tricky balance between heartbreak and doing a Cambridge degree gets easier.

As those moments start to relent, there’s finally a moment to find something hopeful in a break-up. Loneliness can fade into something much less aggressive; it can fade into a simple, understated calmness at the thought of being alone. There’s room to breathe again, fully and deeply. That tiny, well-hidden feeling of calm in the aloneness is reassuring. It can take up some of that space left behind after losing love, and the calm can be productive. Healing really is the right word for it, even if healing in Cambridge has a less linear shape than elsewhere.