Heartbreak

It’s been theorized that humans became Earth’s dominant species not because we’re skilled tool-builders, fire-wielders, or even deep-thinkers, but because we work together really, really well.

Our capacity to imagine what others are thinking, and thus see things from perspectives different from our own, allows us to make all sorts of decisions and plans that wouldn’t be possible lacking this collaborative capacity.

It’s also been posited that this “theory of mind” is fundamental to consciousness (whatever that actually is), because an understanding of mental states beyond our own requires that we’re also capable of doing all sorts of complex forecasting and extrapolation based on incomplete data; it requires we imagine and empathize and sympathize and (to some degree at least) feel what others are feeling.

There’s an argument to be made, then, that our longing for human connection, our desire for human contact (however and to whatever degree we experience such a desire) is the result of biological pressures emphasizing the survival benefits of being able to work as a sort of deconstructed hive-mind, when necessary.

All of which is a convoluted way of saying humans are really good at connecting with other humans. And the same brain-regions and chemicals that allow us (and drive us) to connect in this way are thought to be associated with our capacity to desire and love.

Research conducted over the past few decades has shown that the feeling of romantic love primarily emerges from activity our medial insula, anterior cingulate cortex, caudate nucleus, and putamen, while the posterior cingulate gyrus and amygdala see deactivations, as does right-side activity in the prefrontal, parietal, and middle temporal cortices of our brains.

This is interesting in part because the stimulated regions are associated with the aforementioned theory of mind, but also help us control anger and aggression (an important pro-social capability), are tied to obsessive-compulsive behaviors, and are fundamental to the reward systems that incentivize some types of gambling (especially large-stakes monetary gambling).

The researchers who conducted these studies have suggested that these findings support the assertion that (what we experience as) romantic love evolved to push us toward taking big risks in the pursuit of uncertain (but possibly quite large) gains when it comes to mating, but to also seek out a range of mating partners before committing to one—at least long enough to procreate and get the resulting little ones out the door.

In this context, heartbreak can be seen as a sudden loss of a reliable source of dopamine, paired with a heightened (though temporary) attraction to that which has been lost; that heightened sense of longing possibly related to the longing we may feel if a romantic partner is away on a trip, or otherwise inaccessible to us for a time—the “absence makes the heart grow fonder” effect.

This causes a flood of norepinephrine, which can raise blood pressure and trigger our “fight, flight, or freeze” response, and it can also trigger a slump in mood, mess with our sleep cycle, and even cause a sense of physical pain, despite a lack of physical injury (in some extreme and very rare cases even leading to heart failure). All of which is similar in some ways to the withdrawal symptoms we might experience when trying to break an addiction.

Our bodies and brains push us toward pro-social behaviors, then, and encourage us to build tight relationships, including romantic relationships, to increase the chances of the survival and propagation of our species.

The same internal forces that help reinforce (and motivate) this collective biological advantage, though, can also make us feel absolutely horrible when we experience a breakup (with a friend or romantic partner) or when we’re socially excluded or outcast in some way—even to the point that we feel incredibly depressed or experience physical pain, as a consequence.