When my husband decided to live on his own after three decades togetherness, the cliches of heartbreak felt not like melodrama at all. We spent another six months, still living together and drafting a detailed parenting plan. By the time he took his small, blue suit case and rolled it of the kitchen door for ever, i'd already lost 20 pounds. Physically, i felt like my body had been plugged into a faulty electrical socket. I was getting sick. My pancreus wasn't working right. It's what finally propelled me to seek some answers. And that meant sometimes in the rational arms of fields like neurogenomics and the psychology of social rejection. That

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