Herbs for Heartache: Comfort and Healing When Love is Lost
Losing love is like a window in your heart, everybody sees you’re blown apart, everybody sees the wind blow. -Paul Simon, “Graceland”
Throughout the ages, romantic love has been a bearer of soaring joy and bottomless sorrow, exquisite pleasure and excruciating pain. It’s the kind of love that inspires fairy tales, poetry, and songs. So many human dramas are played out in the pursuit of partnership, or in its loss. When the sweetness of Eros turns sour or is cut short, we often experience heartache, heartbreak, grief, sadness, anger, and perhaps even a dark night of the soul.
The context of an intimate relationship creates its own world, its own private language of shared experiences, dreams, fears, and promises. It’s difficult to lose a lover, no matter how you cut it. Even when you’ve chosen to leave. Even when you think you’re prepared, when you’ve accepted the ending, when you’ve seen it coming from miles off. Even when you’ve survived the experience of loss before. Even when you were never married or bore no children together. Even when society never recognized your relationship to begin with.
Now, I don’t mean to downplay the experience of losing someone you’ve been with for a lifetime, or breaking up a family, or going through a painful divorce. In Eat, Pray, Love, Elizabeth Gilbert shares the sentiment that divorce is like “having a really bad car accident every single day for about two years.” Heartbreak is a form of trauma, no doubt, and one that is often accompanied by a forced reassessment of one’s life plan.
Questions ranging the gamut from practical considerations like, “Where do I live now?” to the more bare-boned, “Who am I?” circle our minds like vultures, waiting to descend upon the remains of what once was. Meanwhile, we must decide what will be, how we’d like to rise from the ashes and shape our new life. Experiences that level our life to the ground are also the best opportunities we get for reinventing ourselves. Yet often such decisions must be made in the very midst of despair, for life’s practicalities wait for no one.
There is no exact formula for healing from a loss, no set order of events, no way to predict and mark on your calendar the day you will wake up and realize your heart feels lighter. Everyone is different, and every love is different, so what we need for the process of healing changes over time. Stages of grief may recur periodically, even after you think you’ve healed long ago. You’ve done the work, you’ve pulled yourself back together, and you’re happily skipping along the path of life, when you suddenly trip over some invisible trigger that was lying in wait for you like a land mine, and before you even register what’s happening, you find yourself tumbling headfirst into the proverbial pit of despair once again. In what seems like an ironic, almost humorous twist of fate, this often happens at the very moment that we attempt to open our hearts to love again.
The path of love is a tricky one, winding and irregular, parts of it completely grown over as to render it invisible, complete with booby traps and thorny snares, but also full of beautiful flowers, stunning vistas, and new discoveries. Shared moments with another soul are something that nothing can take away from us, not time, betrayal, or even death. Your experiences will always be yours to keep. For me, the hopeless romantic, the path of love is always worth the trouble. As the Persian proverb puts it, “He who wants a rose must respect the thorn.” There is no way around pain and loss in this earthly life, and certainly not in the realms of love. Even the most healthy, enduring loves eventually come to an end along with life itself. Unfortunately, there is no cure for a broken heart, but there are some remedies that can soften the blow and promote healing, self-love, and strength throughout the process.
Surviving the Trauma
I have always been a big proponent of crying. Holding in tears is not only painful in the moment, but it can also cause a backlog of emotions to build up so that our feelings become muddy, dulled, even repressed. But lately my viewpoint has begun to shift. Serious bouts of sobbing leave me puffy, congested, and downright exhausted. As I age, I find that crying becomes more draining; it takes longer to recover and makes me feel about a thousand years old. I have burst capillaries on my face that seem to have become permanent features, like new roads on a map.
Vanity aside, crying is sometimes a luxury we simply can’t afford. I’ve often wished that I could press pause when I needed a break from the demands of life, but no magical remote control has been forthcoming. There are many instances when weeping is inadvisable, even when it would feel good, or at any rate, better than holding it in. Other times, even when you have a safe space, crying simply becomes too much, like having a demanding fitness instructor who commands you to keep running on a broken ankle. Sometimes in the midst of trauma, you just need rest, plan and simple.
Kava (Piper methysticum) is a wonderful plant in such circumstances. Well-known as a tension taming, muscle-relaxing, stress-relieving brew, kava eases the pain of body, mind, and spirit. Grief does strange things to the body, causing physical tension and pain to manifest in places like the back, head, and chest. I find that kava brings relief in times of extreme upset, working something like a mix between Rescue Remedy, Tylenol, and brandy. However, kava doesn’t shut the emotional heart down like excessive alcohol consumption can. Instead, it encourages space and distance to open up around the issues of the heart, making them more manageable. I have imbibed kava in anticipation of moments that I know will be difficult, like saying final goodbyes or coming home to an empty apartment for the first time. When I’m tempted to feel quite sorry for myself and drown in my emotions like the soft-bellied, Cancer-rising sign that I am, kava helps me find my way back to solid ground.
As C.S. Lewis once observed, “No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid.” In Ayurveda, grief and heartbreak throw the vata dosha out of balance, resulting in anxiety, restlessness, insomnia, and dehydration (Ullian, 2017). Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) paints a similar picture, envisioning the heart as a vessel that stores Shen, the spirit of our consciousness, emotional wellbeing, mental health, and vitality. When our heart is wrenched with grief, our Shen becomes disturbed, causing us to feel scatterbrained, restless, irritable, and/or unable to sleep (Donahue, 2013).
For the tensed-up, nail-biting, vata-deranged stage of grief, kava provides welcome relaxation and allows for rest. It can help you get to sleep during times of overwhelm, insomnia, and cyclical thinking. Kava also enhances the appetite, which is welcome relief for those who have difficulty eating during times of stress. Thus, kava can help us get through some of the toughest moments of shock and turmoil that come with the end of a valued relationship, helping us get back to our most basic needs like eating and sleeping. However, as a diuretic, kava can contribute to dehydration, so be sure to drink plenty of water with this plant.
Conversely, I find that kava can also help bring buried, stagnant grief to the surface, allowing unshed tears to fall and old wounds to heal. This makes it a nice choice when you want to sit down and process something intentionally through journaling, contemplation, talking, etc. As a muscle relaxer, kava is always a nice companion during a yoga practice, and I find that the plant encourages the release of traumatic memories and experiences that have become stuck in tight muscles.
Traditionally drunk as a means of conflict resolution, kava also dampens anger and bitterness and is especially helpful during difficult discussions with a partner involving possessions, money, and other resources. It encourages open-hearted compassion, making it easier to let go of nonessential arguments and focus on the important issues. Of course, this may throw things out of balance if only one half of a couple is imbibing kava, especially if that person is the peace-making type who gives up important things to avoid conflict. In that case, maybe offer a cup of kava to both parties?
Confronting the Darkness
Speaking of conflict and power struggles, if a relationship is testing your ability to stand up for yourself, speak up for yourself, and/or leave an abusive or unhealthy situation, one helpful herbal ally to keep in mind is black cohosh (Actaea racemosa). Herbalists use this plant for trauma of all kinds, as well as the deep, dark depression than can follow abusive or traumatic experiences. The flower essence is indicated for morbid or vengeful thoughts, addictive tendencies, and codependency with toxic people (Kaminski & Katz, 1996). It helps us find the courage to face the truth of a situation and confront what must be confronted. Matthew Wood (1997) speaks of black cohosh as a remedy for snakebite and whiplash — it’s the kind of plant that can remove the venom from your heart and put things back in order after severe trauma.
I find black cohosh helpful not only for gaining the strength to recognize and leave an unhealthy relationship, but also for cleaning up the internal mess that follows. When you’ve internalized somebody else’s negative talk so that you’ve begun to believe things like, “I’m nothing without him” or “She was right that no one else could love me,” working with black cohosh can help you sort out truth from illusions that have been insidiously seeded by abusive comments. For this process, I like to take a drop dose and sit quietly to see what bubbles up from the darkest depths of the psyche.
Devil’s club (Oplopanax horridus) is another ally for reclaiming personal power that has been inadvertently given to another person. It seems especially helpful for kind souls who tend to be too nice and too giving to the wrong people. Like black cohosh, devil’s club can help us find the courage to stand up for ourselves and challenge bad behavior. I visualize this plant spirit like the Baba Yaga of Slavic folklore, the wizened witch-crone who decorates with fiery skulls and isn’t afraid to bring death upon situations that no longer serve us.
To be clear, I feel compelled to add that plant allies alone may not be enough to help safely and successfully disentangle folks from toxic relationships. If abuse is involved or if depression is severe, you may need to enlist the help of a professional therapist, shaman, and/or a whole team of loving family members and friends. Abusive relationships are infamous for making the victim blame him or herself and feel isolated from loved ones. Yet there is no shame in reaching out for help, no weakness in admitting that you’re in over your head. Many strong, vibrant people have been victims of abuse at some point in their lives.
Finally, let’s look at one more plant to reach for during those deep, dark nights of the soul: moonflower. This name means different things to different people, but here I refer to members of the Datura genus. The species that grows near me is Datura stramonium, jimson weed. First, a word of warning: because of the plant’s poisonous and hallucinogenic nature, it should only be employed in material doses by those who really know what they’re doing. The effects of this psychoactive plant are especially dangerous because one tends to forget that one is having a psychedelic experience (i.e., you have a waking dream that you don’t realize is a dream), and because the physical side effects can involve coma or seizures. There are plenty of safer plants to have an entheogenic experience with, so I leave material doses of Datura well enough alone.
But taken as a flower essence, moonflower is a lovely remedy for those undergoing deep transformational experiences like the loss of a loved one. It’s great for shape-shifting moments, those times when transformation is so all-encompassing that you scarcely recognize yourself in the mirror. Datura flower essence is especially indicated for times when you want to do drastic things like completely alter your appearance or take a new name. For some divorced women, the act of changing one’s last name, whether back to their family name or even to a brand new name, can be an empowering experience, a reclaiming of what was lost and a re-imagining of what can be.
Letting in the Light
When the height of trauma subsides but you’re still left with low-grade, residual feelings of stress, anxiety, loneliness, or general lackluster vibes, St. John’s wort (Hypericum perforatum) can help to bring the light back into life. Its bright yellow, sunny blooms practically glow with the energy of sunshine, and the perforated leaves contain tiny holes that literally let light through when held up to the sun — a fitting signature for a plant used for depression, anxiety, and stress. (For a more in-depth discussion of signatures, read this.) But the sunny blooms quickly turn blood-red when bruised or extracted, which is a nice reminder of the plant’s wound-healing abilities — not just external wounds, but the hidden wounds of the heart as well.
St. John’s wort is closely connected with the sun, blooming around the summer solstice and often employed during the winter for seasonal affective disorder and wintertime blues. I find it interesting that we use light-related metaphors to describe love: we might say, “You light up my life” or “You are my sunshine.” We feel our loved ones as lights in our lives, as beams of positive energy that radiate toward us, providing warmth, comfort, and nourishment. When love is lost, we can feel cut off from light’s very source, hence the old song’s beseeching line, “Please don’t take my sunshine away.”
I find that St. John’s wort helps us to connect with our own inner source of light, reminding us that we don’t need another person to be our sunshine, that light is available to all of us as individuals. This herb brings a glow of health and vitality back to the eyes and skin, and any lackluster feelings about oneself and one’s life are gently and gradually replaced by more pleasant notions. St. John’s wort has a long history of use as a plant of protection, and it encourages us to become strong enough to feel safe in our own skin. It helps us regain a sense of solid footing when it feels as though the rug has been pulled from under our feet. As a grounding and calming nervine, St. John’s wort can help iron out frazzled nerves after a shock so that we are less prone to irritation, insomnia, and anxiety.
If St. John’s wort is my go-to remedy for when the light is lost, then mimosa (Albizia julibrissin) is where I turn when the magic is gone. For those times when you feel out of synch with the rhythms of life, as though you just can’t manage to be in the right place at the right time, Albizia brings the magic back. Mimosa makes a nice ally, then, when a breakup feels especially unlucky or coincides with a streak of bad luck.
Some may argue that losing love always feels unlucky; for just as we associate love with light, we also recognize it as a source of magic. So let me explain what I mean: Sometimes, the experience of losing love is coupled with new opportunities, synchronicity, and a feeling of invisible hands guiding us through unknown territory to better places, even in the midst of tears. Unlucky breakups feel very different: they might force you to move, leaving a job after you’ve just received a big promotion, or perhaps your partner instantly finds another lover while you only succeed in getting mugged — that type of thing. When life seems to have left you behind and you need a dose a magic, Albizia fits the bill.
Referred to as the “tree of happiness,” mimosa is used in TCM for depression, stress, anxiety, shock, and trauma. Albizia seems to have an affinity for the brain and mind, enhancing and balancing the actions of neurotransmitters (Tierra, n.d.). It’s a good choice when the shock of grief and trauma lead to confusion or amnesia. A sweet and gently sedative medicine, mimosa helps soften feelings of bitterness and victimhood, bringing you back into the flow of life. The fluffy, pink flowers are luxuriously beautiful and remind me of cheerleading pom-poms, as if the plant is your number one fan, cheering you on in moments of despair. (Admittedly, that may be the silliest signature anyone has ever suggested in the history of herbalism, but the impression rings true enough for me to mention.)
The Sacral Chakra: Managing Guilt and Libido
Relationships are governed in part by the second chakra, known in yogic traditions as the energy center that rules sexuality, pleasure, desire, and the emotions. Along with the heart, this chakra allows for deep physical and emotional connection with a partner. When a relationship ends, especially suddenly, the sacral chakra can fly out of balance.
Some people experience a complete loss of libido for a period of time following a bad breakup, divorce, or the death of a partner. To my mind, this isn’t really too problematic. Allowing oneself a period of time for grieving and processing a loss before diving into a new relationship is a healthy practice that is often missing in a culture of Tinder and instant gratification. If one feels emotionally ready to enter into a sexual relationship but the body is not cooperating, there are many plants that can help reawaken the libido, and aphrodisiac plants have been well-covered by others.
Here, I’d like to focus on the opposite issue, and one that doesn’t get as much press: an unruly increase in libido directly following the end of a relationship. For a while, I thought I might be the only person on the planet to experience this rather inconvenient symptom of heartache. What strange and unfortunate type of person, I wondered, becomes full of desire as soon as there is no outlet for the energy? Then I started asking friends if they too have experienced a post-breakup libido surge, and the answer from many was a resounding, “Yes!” followed by, “Thank you — I’ve always felt so weird and guilty about this!”
It makes sense, I suppose, that when pleasure is withdrawn from our lives, we poignantly feel its loss. Pleasure is not only about sex, of course, but also the simple sweetness of affection. It’s an emotional experience as much as a physical one, so we feel the loss of affection both from our basic instincts as cuddly mammals and from our higher senses that desire emotional connection.
As it turns out, Traditional Chinese Medicine makes a case for an increased libido following trauma. In TCM, extreme emotional impacts such as the end of a relationship can weaken both kidney yin and heart yin. Because yin vacuity leads to yang hyperactivity, this can result in symptoms like sleep disturbances, heart palpitations, and mental restlessness. It can also lead to hypersexuality combined with feelings of exhaustion, irritability, and forgetfulness. One text even lists erotic dreams and nocturnal emissions as symptoms of emotional turmoil (Kastner, 2004).
I have another theory about why the libido sometimes runs rampant following a loss. Water is the element of the sacral chakra, which governs our emotional natures. When the emotions are too big to process all at once, they can get stuck in this chakra, manifesting in a variety of ways. Excess physical desire can be an indication of unhealed wounds of all kinds, but when you mix in the loss of a lover, the issue magnifies. This may be exacerbated by sudden feelings of radical freedom after leaving a relationship in which fidelity was valued or perhaps even a desire to “get back” at the former partner. Enter: the rebound.
The problem is, the choices we make when the sacral chakra is drunk on grief can lead to even more drama, trauma, and loss. The second chakra is intimately connected with our intuition, so when one is out of balance, the other is likely to become impaired as well. I have a few favorite plants that I reach for after a traumatic loss when I’d like the sacral chakra to sober up before making any rash decisions.
The first of these plants is Vitex agnus-castus, known as chaste tree for its historical use by monks, priests, and priestesses to encourage celibacy. But as Rosemary Gladstar (1993) points out, the plant is not a true anaphrodisiac, nor is it an aphrodisiac. As a hormonal regulator, it can balance out excess in either direction. Chaste tree has been used for the loss of libido and general zest for life in older folks and also for easing hyperactivity and sexual obsession in teenagers and young people (Wood, 2008). Matthew Wood also lists lack of libido following sexual abuse or exploitation as an indication for Vitex.
Wood (2008) associates the plant with the dual archetypes of hunter and hunted, which can certainly come into play in relationship dramas. If we have been neglected or rejected in relationships, we may be tempted by the hunter archetype — the one who actively pursues us and showers us with attention, perhaps even inappropriately. The opposite can also occur at a relationship’s end, so that we are tempted to become the hunter archetype, aggressively or obsessively pursuing another. In either case, Vitex is good for folks who are tempted to jump from one dissatisfactory relationship into another. It helps turn our attention and energy inward, so that we can work on ourselves before hastily latching on to the next available human being.
Plus, Vitex is a good post-breakup ally in part because it is such a joyful, uplifting medicine. During a blind drop-dose session in class, one of my fellow students once termed Vitex berry tincture “a smile in a bottle,” a name that has stuck with me ever since. The plant seems to add a little sparkle to everything around you, while subtly easing excess desire. I wouldn’t say that it dashes a glass of cold water into the face of desire, but rather, takes the energy and raises it up a notch, allowing us to use that energy for something more constructive, creative, and self-affirming.
Another plant that acts as a healing balm for a wounded sacral chakra is pine (Pinus spp.). Like Vitex, pine helps us move energy stuck in the second chakra upward, pulling it into our conscious awareness. Pine also promotes strength and independence, bringing out our masculine side (regardless of our own gender) and helping us maintain proper boundaries and endure loneliness when need be. In flower essence therapy, pine is used for people who tend to blame themselves to such an extent that they become frozen with guilt, unable to move forward (Kaminski & Katz, 1996).
Guilt is a valid concern in breakup scenarios, as many people carry guilt from times that they have hurt others. Guilt is also considered a shadow emotion of the second chakra, negatively impacting our sexuality and creativity. Pine promotes forgiveness of the self for any perceived misdeeds, especially those that involve sex. I find that pine medicine also helps relieve gnawing feelings of jealousy by promoting self-acceptance and independence. When we feel like we’re not enough or get stuck comparing ourselves with others (such as the person our partner has left us for), pine can help bring the focus back to the self, transmuting jealousy into a healthy desire for self-improvement.
In fact, pine relieves break-up woes in many ways: as a bitter digestive aid, it can provide ease when stress has our stomach tied in knots. With decongestant and expectorant properties, pine can help move out grief and sorrow that have become stagnant in the lungs (more on grief and the respiratory system below). Topical preparations from pine needles and resin ease physical aches and pains. Pine has circulatory stimulant properties that get the blood moving, warming us from the inside out, which is great when loneliness is accompanied by feelings of physical cold. As a nervine, pine imbues a sense of steady, calm connectedness with the bigger picture of life (Klenner, 2015). All of these actions combine to create a grounding, soothing, and strengthening remedy that gets us up and moving again after loss. One of my favorite ways to enjoy pine medicine is by making an infused oil with the needles and a few drops of essential oil and using it for massage and baths.
Healing the Heart
So far, we have covered efforts at survival and damage control for various feelings and scenarios that can come with losing a lover. Now let’s turn our attention to the heart of the matter: tending to the wounded heart itself.
My all-time favorite plant for mending a broken heart is hawthorn (Crataegus spp.), a member of the rose family. This medicine will always have a special place in my apothecary due to a powerful personal experience I had when I first began studying herbalism. While sitting quietly near a hawthorn tree with a single drop of the berry tincture on my tongue, I was thrust quite unexpectedly into an altered state. I was shown a series of heartbreaking experiences that had occurred throughout my life like a movie montage, one after another, until I was weeping like a child. More importantly, I was shown how these seemingly unconnected wounds formed patterns in my life and my own behavior, whereby I had reenacted painful childhood experiences in my adult relationships. It was a raw experience and a much-needed healing crisis that opened my eyes to some of my own self-defeating patterns.
Since then, I have turned to hawthorn during acute heartbreak experiences like breakups and loss, times when the emotions are overwhelming enough to cause physical heart pain. As a relaxing nervine, the plant eases the deep grief that awakens our most primordial fears of abandonment and rejection, providing calm even in the midst of a storm. Thorns are a signature for sharp pain (Hopman, 2016), and having evolved as a means of protecting sweet, edible fruits, thorny plants tend to provide relief when we’ve been hurt while reaching out for the sweetness of life. Thorns also offer protection to a heart that feels open, raw, and vulnerable.
In addition to soothing acute grief, hawthorn’s healing wisdom is also beneficial during times when old wounds are blocking the way and need to be dredged up, faced, and released. This process is a valuable way of healing the past and making way for a future filled with healthier, more conscious relationships. In the words of Rumi, “Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.” Hawthorn is a lovely ally for the process of unraveling the heart’s buried secrets and dismantling the beliefs and tendencies that act like Sleeping Beauty’s wall of thorns, keeping love out.
Yet perhaps the most quintessential plant of love and thorns is the rose (Rosa spp.). Just gazing at the sheer beauty of rose blossoms or inhaling their luxurious scent can effect immediate change in the emotions. Rose’s uplifting, comforting, and soothing energy can help during intense moments when we feel angry, hurt, and betrayed. The plant’s physical medicine is cooling and anti-inflammatory, a nice metaphor for rose’s ability to cool the temper and relieve inflamed emotions of all kinds. When I’m angry at someone who has betrayed me, rose acts as a cooling balm to the heart, revealing how my anger is usually masking the deep sadness of betrayal that I have not yet been able to face. Cooling the flames of anger and opening my heart to sadness helps me take the first step toward acceptance and forgiveness.
Kiva Rose Hardin turns to rose medicines in times of trauma and distress, finding the tincture more effective than Rescue Remedy. As she explains, “An amazingly uplifting herb, I often use it as an antidepressant/antianxiety agent, especially for those who have been the victim of violence, sexual abuse or betrayal as well as anyone who can use more self-love. It has a profound opening effect on the heart and on sexuality, and is a deeply nourishing tonic for the nerves” (Hardin, 2008, para. 19).
Our relationship with the self is, after all, our most important relationship. If we don’t love ourselves, we have a hard time giving and receiving love from others. A lack of self-love can be an insidious issue after rejection or betrayal, so rose’s ability to foster self-love is one of the plant’s most important gifts. Rose also opens our hearts to an even higher form of love. Long valued as a mystical symbol of many spiritual traditions, rose lifts us up to a higher vantage point where we can see that love is never truly lost because it is the very glue that binds the universe together. This may be sound like a vapid new age concept to some, but experiencing divine love is a deeply healing gift that words cannot properly convey. To my mind, rose is a very high-vibration medicine that can help open our hearts to this deep truth.
Violet (Viola spp.) is another plant that is profoundly soothing to an aching heart. With heart-shaped leaves, violet was used by the ancient Greeks to ease anger and insomnia as well to provide comfort for the heart. Violet, particularly Viola tricolor, is sometimes called heart’s ease, and the ancient use of this plant for cooling a burning heart or mind persists today (Grieve, 1931/1971). Some herbalists employ violet in cases of deep grief. As Amber Magnolia Hill (2017, para.18) writes, “After losing my mom in a car accident in 2015, I’ve come to think of violet as a friend who helps to soften the jagged edges of living with trauma and loss.”
Violet leaf contains the anti-inflammatory compound salicylic acid, so it eases physical pains associated with stress, such as headaches. Violet is also a nervine and helps relax the mind when over-thinking is exacerbating our stress (Bennett, 2014). As a moistening and mucilaginous plant, violet is a nice choice when grief has left us feeling dried-out and cried-out, with frazzled nerves and an inflamed mind. It’s also a good one to use alongside kava to balance the latter’s dehydrating tendencies.
Like rose, violet is a great ally when anger is ruling the emotions. As Robin Rose Bennett (2014, p. 210) says, “Not only does violet help your body dissolve cysts, lumps, and bumps, this plant’s soothing nature can help you dissolve the red-hot burn of anger, cool the draining white heat of frustration and resentment, and relieve the simmering roil of feeling stuck in separation when ruled by your judgmental mind.” Just as violet helps us dissolve hardness in the body, this plant also help us process hard emotions before they become crystalized within the body and mind.
I find that violet aids the process of introspection, helping us go deep within and access our true feelings about a situation — our heart’s desire. It helps align the mind with the heart so that we can stop circling the same issues repeatedly, quieting the mind enough to hear the voice of the heart. This makes violet a good remedy for when you’re unsure whether or not to leave a relationship or when you have to make any difficult decision regarding love and romance.
Another gift that violet offers is its soothing and expectorant actions on the lungs; the plant is used as an expectorant for coughs and other respiratory conditions, especially those that are accompanied with dryness and inflammation (“Violet,” n.d.). This is important in the context of heartache, since many healing traditions tell us that grief is gathered in the lungs and can stagnate there, causing congestion and other issues if not resolved. The expectorant qualities of violet combine well with its heart-easing nature to help us move through grief that has become stuck in the lungs. In the next section, we will dive more deeply into the connection between grief and the respiratory system and explore more plants that can support the lungs during times of heartache.
A Breath of Fresh Air
Like many ancient healing traditions, TCM connects the emotions with various organs of the body. Grief is considered the emotion of the lungs and is associated with “a pale complexion, frequent sighs, and listlessness” (Wu et al., 2013, p. 79). Prolonged or unresolved grief can lead to a deficiency in lung qi, which is characterized by an increased susceptibility to respiratory issues like colds, flu, tonsillitis, bronchitis, asthma, and pneumonia. In addition, “sitting hunched over with tense shoulders for extended periods of time” is also detrimental to lung qi (Kastner, 2004, p. 79). This is a classic posture of grief, as we unconsciously pull our chest inward to protect our aching heart in times of sorrow.
The yoga-based chakra system also connects the emotion of grief with the lungs by way of the heart chakra. The lungs are ruled by the heart chakra, which is part of what makes breath work so powerful for releasing stagnant emotions. Grief and longing are considered this chakra’s shadow side (Judith, 2004); when we experience intense grief, it can literally take our breath away. Thus, the process of releasing pent-up grief is greatly aided by the use of plants that support the respiratory system.
I have experienced this connection myself. One winter, I caught what was at first a relatively minor cold, but the congestion in my lungs and infection in my sinuses held on week after week, which turned into months. Meanwhile, I was teetering on the edge of ending a relationship that caused me continual sorrow interspersed by moments of heartfelt love that made the choice to leave difficult. Finally, I made the connection between my unresolved grief and congestion, which continued even after I finally broke the relationship off. When April came around and I was still coughing, I knew I had to do something.
I had some goldenseal (Hydrastis canadensis) tincture I’d made earlier in the spring from fresh, cultivated roots and leaves. This remedy came to mind for physical reasons, as goldenseal dries up excess mucous. I have also used goldenseal tincture diluted with salt water in a neti pot for sinus infections. Just a few days of small, internal doses along with the neti treatment did wonders for me, clearing up the lingering congestion and infection. Working with goldenseal also greatly benefited my emotional well being, giving me the strength to truly process my sorrow. After all, while grief can cause lung issues, the reverse is also true: respiratory weakness can hinder our ability to process grief. Before we can breathe deeply into our emotions to release them, first we have to be able to breathe.
Goldenseal is used as a flower essence for cutting energetic cords, the emotional and psychic ties we form with others that can end up draining our energy, especially if not released after a relationship has ended (Gilday & de la Tour, 2000). Personally, I have experienced nearly magical effects using goldenseal to release lingering attachments to past lovers, even to the extent of having a former partner unexpectedly contact me to apologize and bring closure. Interestingly, Wood sees goldenseal as a strengthener of the solar plexus and uses the plant in cases when a client has suffered an emotional loss, causing them to feel a “hemorrhage of emotional energy” or a sense of “all-goneness” from the solar plexus area (Wood, 1996, p. 297). This energy center boosts our willpower and can help us cultivate boundaries and healthy detachment from what no longer serves us.
Goldenseal is also used for wound-healing, with the ability to “seal up” gushing wounds so well that Wood (1996) warns against allowing any debris to become trapped inside. I see this ability as translating to wounds of the heart as well, especially those that continue to leak energy months or even years later. All of these aspects make goldenseal a nice choice when things are lingering in limbo, whether the issue is grief stagnating in the respiratory tract or attachment lingering in the heart or mind.
Another nice plant for grief-related respiratory issues is butterfly weed (Asclepias tuberosa), also known called pleurisy root. As the second name suggests, a traditional use of this plant is for soothing inflammation of the pleura, the lining of the lungs, which can be caused by a variety of conditions including respiratory infections. Butterfly weed is indicated when acute infections have settled on the lungs and become chronic (Wood, 1996). According to Wood, an indication for this plant is “a feeling of oppression and tightness in the chest, impinging on the heart” (Wood, 1996, p. 160).
As a diffusive herb, Asclepias moves stagnant energy outward and can be used for fluid in the lungs as well as clicking or catching in the joints (Wood, 1996). Butterfly weed works to move emotional stagnation out as well, helping us deal with sticking points that trip us up time and time again. Butterfly weed is named for the beautiful winged ones that enjoy the flower’s nectar so much, and to me, this plant is symbolic of the intense type of transformation we see when the caterpillar becomes a butterfly.
Once, while working with Asclepias, I was inspired to cut a flower stalk and sleep with it in bed that night. I proceeded to have an unexpected and rather sexy dream about somebody whom I wasn’t supposed to desire, and in fact, I had been denying there was any attraction between us at all. Butterfly weed brought the issue to my conscious mind so that I could face my feelings and confide in a trusted friend, who helped me process the guilt I was feeling about this forbidden attraction. Later I learned that Asclepias was named after Asclepius, the Greek god of medicine. An asclepion was a temple in ancient Greece and Rome where patients would seek healing. One of the treatments offered was dream therapy, whereby patients would spend the night at the temple in the hopes of receiving a healing dream (Morris, 2007). It seems that Asclepias brought the experience of the asclepion to me, no temple required.
While this story does not directly relate to heartache, I believe it does speak to the power of butterfly weed’s ability to dredge up deep, even unconscious emotions. I might have included this plant in the section on the second chakra as well. Not only does butterfly weed possess beautiful orange flowers, the color of the sacral chakra, but it also is good for releasing bound-up emotions surrounding guilt and sexuality. Asclepias can help us release self-loathing, fostering acceptance of our human flaws and desires. Thus, it can be useful for processing grief that has become stuck in the lungs following a loss, even and especially when our own actions have caused the end of a relationship.
Other plants that open the lungs and support respiratory health can also be used for processing grief. For example, osha (Ligusticum porteri) is one that I don’t have much personal experience with because it doesn’t grow where I live and, like goldenseal, it’s an at-risk plant. However, herbalists who do have a connection with osha have allied with this powerful plant for moving grief from the lungs. As mentioned above, pine is another ally to consider for releasing grief from the respiratory tract, and in fact, it has a history of use by some Native American tribes for healing from the loss of a loved one (Moerman, 2009).
A Word on Entheogens
While a full discussion of entheogens is well beyond the scope of this article, I do want to briefly mention that they can be powerful allies in the process of moving through trauma and difficult emotions. Psychoactive plants, when taken with respect and reverence and in the context of ceremony, help us to view our own patterns with great clarity. When it comes to relationships that feel difficult or impossible, they can help us better understand the other person’s perspective, thus fostering forgiveness.
A friend of mine once partook in series of ayahuasca sessions with questions about his difficult marriage in the hopes of avoiding divorce. The ayahuasca brew (containing Banisteriopsis caapi and Psychotria viridis) fostered a vision which showed him a visual map of his wife’s troubled upbringing, allowing him greater compassion for her behavior. While it did not save the marriage, my friend says that these experiences were nonetheless invaluable for helping him through the difficult process of divorce.
Entheogens have also helped me process heartache time and time again. A San Pedro (Echinopsis pachanoi) ceremony once opened my eyes to the fact that I was accepting far less than I deserved from my partnership. This was brought to my attention both during the ceremony and also that night in a dream in which my partner recklessly drove the car off a waterfall, killing us both. We were stuck in a sort of Goundhog Day-like scenario, so that we repeated the same scene over and over: He drove like a wild man while I pleaded for him to be careful, only for him to drive us into oblivion again and again. The message was clear: no matter how I might try to get through to my partner and save the relationship, his behavior would not change. It was a harsh lesson, but San Pedro helped me find the motivation to remove myself from a situation that had become unhealthy.
I’ve also turned to psilocybin mushrooms (Psilocybe spp.) for healing my heart after the end of cherished relationships over the years. They have often helped me see the bright side of things, showing me a review of valuable things I learned from the relationship and teaching me to focus on gratitude for the good experiences rather than dwelling upon the pain of loss. In general, psilocybin has been such a blessing in my life, providing deep lessons in resourcefulness, boundaries, and inner strength when I’ve needed them the most.
Of course, entheogens aren’t for everyone. If they don’t call to you, there are plenty of other plants that can help process tough emotions and situations. In the words of Stephen Harrod Buhner (1998, p. 167), “To the attentive mind, all plants are psychotropic; they all change consciousness, awareness, understanding, and sense of self.” As someone who was brought into a decidedly altered state with gentle hawthorn, I can certainly attest to this truth.
Opening to Love
After the experience of losing love, an important step in the healing process is the willingness and ability to open the heart to love once again when the opportunity arises. Falling in love is a beautiful experience that can be healing unto itself, but opening to love after loss can also trigger fears and traumatic memories that may have lain dormant for years. This can leave us feeling frightened, vulnerable, and tempted to shut down in an effort to avoid future heartbreak.
Any of the classic heart herbs can help with the process of opening to love, but rose is especially well-suited for this purpose. What better ally than the ancient, classic symbol of love and devotion? The beauty of rose as a heart-opener is that the plant fosters self-love and strength alongside vulnerability, encouraging balance between openness and protection. In the words of Robin Rose Bennett (2014, p. 225), “Rose requests that you value yourself, and helps you to keep your self-respect in all your relationships, particularly the intimate ones.” At the same time, rose helps us move past the indifference and isolation that can come with a wounded heart. The flower essence is used to overcome apathy and alienation, encouraging us to take emotional risks and fully engage with life and love, accepting that pain and challenge are simply a part of the bargain (Kaminski & Katz, 1996).
Rose is also a nice choice for encouraging open-hearted sensual experiences. As Kiva Rose explains, “An age old aphrodisiac, stirring up both blood and libido as well as opening up the heart, it has a history of treating sexual dysfunction such as impotence and frigidity” (Hardin, 2007, para. 12). I especially enjoy engaging the scent of rose for opening the heart, relaxing the nerves, and getting into the mood for romance. Rose petal infused oil, perhaps with a few drops of rose essential oil, is lovely for massage. I like to combine rose oil with pine oil to create a lovely combination of feminine and masculine energies for a sensual massage oil that fosters deep physical, emotional, and psychic connection.
Oats (Avena sativa) can also be of great support while opening to the experience of love. Oatstraw baths and tea, milky oats extract, and even oatmeal are ways to enjoy the relaxing, nervine properties of this plant. Gently uplifting, Avena is like a comforting arm over our shoulders during moments of anxiety, letting us know that things will turn out fine if we can just relax. Oats provide nourishment for frazzled nerves and can help ground the electrifying, sometimes sleepless experience of falling in love.
Susun Weed (1989) praises Avena as a plant that boosts the libido, helping us “feel our oats” and providing nourishment for the nerves so that we are able to experience more pleasure. It can help us move past a fear of intimacy and feel more comfortable being vulnerable with another person. Avena also enhances the intuition, which is especially helpful when navigating new relationships. Appropriately, oats also benefit the heart, regulating its rhythm, lowering cholesterol, and supporting the heart muscles and circulatory vessels (Weed, 1989). Oats also supports the emotional heart, helping us feel sturdy while also enhancing our desire to connect.
Another ally for the process of opening to love is lemon balm (Melissa officinalis), a nervine that works wonders on anxiety. I suppose many folks find first dates exciting, but I have always found them terribly nerve-wracking. Lemon balm’s calming, uplifting vibes are great for relieving nerves during the first few dates, making these experiences more relaxed and enjoyable. Lemon balm eases anxiety-related physical symptoms like nervous headaches, indigestion, and the lack of appetite (never ideal during a dinner date). Sometimes referred to as heart’s delight, lemon balm has an affinity with the heart, easing palpitations and high blood pressure, especially when associated with nervousness (Wood, 2008). This plant also elevates the mind, clearing away negative self-talk and irrational fears, allowing us to be fully open to the present moment.
Sensual Self-Care
Of course, plants are not the end of the story when it comes to healing heartache. There is no substitute for other healing techniques like talk therapy, shamanic healing, energy work, and ceremony. Even the simplest of self-care rituals like breathwork, movement, and salt baths are crucial when recovering from loss of any kind. When it comes to losing love, it’s important to get the senses involved in the healing process, since our bodies may feel starved for affection in the wake of losing a lover. Healthy touch such as massage or other kinds of body work with a trusted practitioner are nice ways to soothe the body and open the heart after loss.
When it comes to herbs, I recommend crafting remedies that both nourish and indulge the senses, like scented oils, bath teas, and sweet remedies like rose glycerites and lemon balm honey. Sometimes, working with just one plant at a time can be a great comfort for its simplicity and depth. At other times, creating a blend and giving it a bad-ass name is even more empowering. For example, I may craft a tincture blend of hawthorn, pine, and mimosa, perhaps with a few drops of Datura flower essence, and label the bottle “I Will Survive” as a daily reminder of strength. In any case, the types of preparations that make us feel pampered, loved, and strong are the ones to turn to when easing a troubled heart.
Calling on plants in ritual is also a powerful healing practice. For instance, some folks incorporate thorns from hawthorn or rose into herbal preparations for a protective influence, while others keep or wear thorns as a talisman for the same purpose. A ritual herbal bath can be done for cleansing before a releasing or forgiveness ceremony; a few drops of goldenseal in the bathwater works especially well for this. I also recommend connecting with mimosa during rituals to bring magic, love, and sensuality back into our lives.
When tending to your own broken heart, remember to be patient and gentle with yourself. There is no need to suffer over our suffering or exacerbate grief by beating ourselves up for feeling sad, angry, or lonely. Stay with the process, even if you think you should be over it already. Rather than a sign of weakness, a broken heart is like a badge of honor, revealing our bravery and openness to life. In the words of Elizabeth Gilbert, “This is a good sign, having a broken heart. It means we have tried for something.” Our culture, so eager to celebrate youth, increase, union, and beginnings, often forgets to honor and bless that which is old, waning, complete, and dying. Yet loss and heartbreak are something we all must face as part of the human experience.
I will end with a quote from Robin Rose Bennett (2014, p. 219), who says it so beautifully: “You are designed to open to your loving nature. This is part of your personal and social evolution, and right now is the pivotal moment. You are being called to move from being led by the small, excluding mind to being led by the spacious mind and the inclusive heart. Common to all people is the fact that, where there is pain and grief, heartache and heartbreak, the heart is being invited to open.”
May we all find the strength to accept the invitation.
This article first appeared in the Summer 2018 edition of Plant Healer Magazine (www.planthealer.org).
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