How to Get Over an Ex: The Real Path Through Heartbreak and Into Something Better

The end of a relationship hits different at 3 AM. That's when the silence gets too loud and your brain decides to replay every good moment you shared, conveniently editing out all the reasons things fell apart. I've been there more times than I'd like to admit, staring at the ceiling, wondering if this particular brand of chest-tightening grief would ever ease up.

Getting over an ex isn't some neat, linear process despite what the self-help industrial complex wants you to believe. It's messy, unpredictable, and deeply personal. Some days you'll feel like you've turned a corner, only to smell their cologne on a stranger and find yourself back at square one. That's normal. Actually, that's more than normal – it's human.

The Biology of Heartbreak (Or Why You Feel Like You're Dying)

Your brain on heartbreak is essentially your brain on drug withdrawal. I'm not being dramatic here – neuroscientists have found that romantic rejection activates the same pain pathways in the brain as physical injury. When you lose someone you love, your brain's reward system goes haywire. All those feel-good chemicals – dopamine, oxytocin, serotonin – that flooded your system when you were with your ex? They've suddenly dried up.

This is why you might find yourself doing absolutely unhinged things in the aftermath of a breakup. Driving past their house at midnight. Checking their Instagram story for the fifteenth time today. Drafting texts you'll never send (or worse, sending them). Your brain is literally jonesing for its fix, and rational thought has left the building.

Understanding this helped me enormously during my worst breakup. Instead of beating myself up for feeling "crazy," I recognized that my brain was doing exactly what millions of years of evolution programmed it to do: panic when separated from someone it had bonded with. We're social creatures, hardwired for connection. Losing that connection hurts because it's supposed to hurt.

The Myth of Closure

Let me save you some time and heartache: closure is largely a myth. We've been sold this idea that there's some magic conversation or revelation that will make everything make sense, tie up all the loose ends, and allow us to move forward with peace and clarity.

In reality? Most relationships end with a thousand unanswered questions. Why did they stop trying? What could I have done differently? Did they ever really love me? You might never get satisfying answers to these questions, and that's something you'll need to make peace with.

I spent months after one breakup convinced that if I could just understand why – really understand – then I could move on. I analyzed every conversation, every fight, every moment where things might have gone wrong. It was exhausting and ultimately pointless. The truth is, sometimes relationships end not because of one big reason but because of a hundred small ones. Sometimes people grow apart. Sometimes love isn't enough.

The real closure comes from within. It comes from accepting that you may never fully understand what happened, and that's okay. It comes from deciding that your healing doesn't depend on them giving you answers or apologies or explanations.

Feeling Your Feelings (Even the Ugly Ones)

There's this pressure to "stay positive" after a breakup, to immediately bounce back and show the world (and your ex) that you're doing just fine. Social media doesn't help – everyone's curating their post-breakup glow-up while you're eating cereal for dinner and haven't washed your hair in four days.

Here's permission to feel like absolute garbage for a while. Grief isn't pretty. It's not Instagram-worthy. It's crying in your car in the grocery store parking lot because you saw their favorite brand of pasta. It's anger so hot it surprises you. It's bargaining with the universe, depression that makes your bones feel heavy, and eventually – eventually – acceptance.

I remember after one particularly brutal breakup, I tried to skip straight to acceptance. I threw myself into work, went to the gym religiously, smiled and told everyone I was "actually doing great!" I was not doing great. I was performing "doing great" while inside I was falling apart. It wasn't until I finally let myself ugly cry for an entire weekend, really feel the loss, that I could actually begin to heal.

Feel your feelings. All of them. Even the petty ones. Even the ones that make you feel like a bad person. Feelings aren't facts, and they're not permanent. But they need to be felt to be released.

The Contact Conundrum

To block or not to block? To stay friends or cut them off completely? The post-breakup contact question is a minefield, and everyone has opinions.

Here's mine: in the immediate aftermath of a breakup, you need space. Real space. Not "we're taking a break from talking but I still check their Twitter" space. I mean complete and total separation. This isn't about being dramatic or punishing them – it's about giving your brain a chance to start rewiring itself.

Every time you see their face on social media, every time you exchange texts, you're giving your brain a little hit of those bonding chemicals. You're keeping the attachment alive. It's like trying to quit smoking while keeping a pack of cigarettes in your pocket "just in case."

I learned this the hard way. After my first serious breakup, we tried to stay friends immediately. We'd text about our days, grab coffee occasionally, maintain this weird pseudo-relationship that prevented either of us from actually moving on. It wasn't until we finally went no-contact for six months that I could see the relationship – and myself – clearly.

Maybe someday you can be friends. Maybe. But not now. Not while your heart still does that stupid flutter thing when their name pops up on your phone.

Rediscovering Who You Are (When You're Not "Us")

Relationships change us. We make compromises, adopt new habits, sometimes lose touch with parts of ourselves. When it ends, there's this strange period where you have to remember who you were before them, or maybe discover who you are without them.

I remember standing in my apartment after my ex moved out, looking around at all the empty spaces. Not just the physical ones where their stuff used to be, but the temporal ones too. Saturday mornings without our farmers market routine. Wednesday nights without our standing dinner date. Who was I when I wasn't half of this couple?

This is actually where things can get interesting, if you let them. You get to rediscover old passions that maybe got pushed aside. You get to try new things without considering someone else's opinion. You get to be selfish with your time in the best possible way.

After my last breakup, I remembered that I used to love hiking before my ex convinced me it was "too much effort." I started small, just local trails, but within a few months I was planning weekend camping trips. I joined a hiking group, made new friends, discovered I was actually pretty good at reading topographic maps. None of this would have happened if I'd stayed in that relationship.

The Rebound Debate

Ah, rebounds. The conventional wisdom says they're a bad idea, that you need to be completely healed before you even think about dating again. The conventional wisdom is... sometimes right and sometimes full of it.

The truth is more nuanced. Jumping immediately into another serious relationship? Probably not your best move. Your judgment is compromised, you're vulnerable, and you're likely to either pick someone completely wrong for you or project all your ex's qualities (good and bad) onto this new person.

But casual dating? Meeting new people? Remembering that you're desirable and that there are other humans on this planet who might want to kiss you? That can actually be healing, as long as you're honest with yourself and others about where you're at emotionally.

I went on a truly terrible date about two months after a breakup. The guy spent the entire dinner talking about his cryptocurrency investments and then tried to convince me that the moon landing was faked. But you know what? I laughed about it with my friends afterward. I remembered that I could feel attracted to someone who wasn't my ex. I remembered that dating could be fun (or at least funny). It was a small step, but it was forward motion.

When Moving On Feels Like Betrayal

There's this moment in the healing process that no one really talks about. It's when you realize you've gone a whole day without thinking about them. When you laugh – really laugh – at something and don't immediately feel guilty about feeling joy without them. When someone asks you out and you realize you actually want to say yes.

And then comes the guilt. How can you be moving on? Doesn't the depth of your grief prove the depth of your love? If you're healing, does that mean what you had wasn't real?

This is your brain playing tricks on you. Moving on doesn't diminish what you had. It doesn't mean you didn't love them or that the relationship didn't matter. It means you're human and humans are remarkably resilient creatures. We're built to heal, to adapt, to find joy again even after loss.

I struggled with this after ending a five-year relationship. The first time I felt genuine happiness – I was at a concert with friends, completely lost in the music – I immediately felt this wave of guilt. How dare I be happy when just months ago I thought my world was ending? But healing isn't a betrayal of your past love. If anything, it's a testament to your capacity to love deeply and still choose life afterward.

The Setback Spiral

Healing isn't linear. I cannot emphasize this enough. You'll have good days and bad days, good weeks and bad weeks. You'll think you're completely over them and then you'll hear your song on the radio and suddenly you're sobbing in a Target parking lot.

Setbacks are not failures. They're not signs that you're "doing it wrong" or that you'll never get over them. They're part of the process. The key is not to let a setback spiral into complete despair.

I had a friend who used to mark her good days on a calendar with a smiley face. After a particularly bad setback, she was ready to give up, convinced she'd made no progress. But when she looked at her calendar, she could see that the good days were slowly outnumbering the bad. The trajectory was upward, even if it wasn't a straight line.

Be gentle with yourself during setbacks. They're going to happen. What matters is that you don't let them derail you completely. Feel the feelings, then get back to the business of living your life.

Creating New Neural Pathways

Your brain created strong neural pathways associated with your ex. Their laugh, their smell, the way they took their coffee – all of it is wired into your neural network. The good news? You can create new pathways.

This is where routine becomes your friend. Not the mind-numbing, going-through-the-motions kind of routine, but intentional new patterns that help your brain learn a different way of being.

Maybe you always used to have Sunday brunch with your ex. Don't just skip brunch – create a new Sunday ritual. Maybe it's a solo hike, or trying a new recipe, or having a standing video call with your best friend who lives across the country. You're not erasing the old pathways, but you're building new ones alongside them.

I became somewhat obsessed with this concept after my breakup. I changed my running route so I wouldn't pass "our" coffee shop. I rearranged my furniture. I started learning Italian on a language app. Some of it was probably excessive, but it worked. My brain slowly learned that life could have rhythm and meaning that didn't revolve around another person.

The Comparison Trap

Social media is a particular kind of torture after a breakup. There's your ex, apparently living their best life. There's everyone else in their happy relationships. There's you, eating ice cream out of the container and wondering if you'll die alone.

First of all, social media is a highlight reel. That photo of your ex looking carefree at a party doesn't show them crying in their car afterward. Those couple photos don't show the fight they had right before taking them. You're comparing your behind-the-scenes to everyone else's carefully curated performance.

But beyond that, comparison in general is a losing game when you're healing. Your journey is your own. Maybe your friend got over their ex in two months. Maybe your cousin took two years. Neither timeline is right or wrong – they're just different.

I made the mistake of thinking I should be "over it" by a certain point because that's how long it took a friend to move on from her breakup. But her relationship was two years; mine was six. Her ex cheated; mine and I just grew apart. Comparing our healing timelines was like comparing apples and... I don't know, carburetors. Completely different machines.

When You're Ready (You'll Know)

People will tell you all sorts of formulas. Wait half the length of the relationship before dating again. Wait until you can think about them without crying. Wait until you've "found yourself."

Here's what I've learned: you'll know when you're ready. Not ready to never think about them again – that might never happen completely. Not ready to feel nothing when you remember the good times. But ready to build something new without the ghost of your past relationship haunting every interaction.

For me, the moment came on an ordinary Tuesday. I was at a bookstore, completely absorbed in browsing, when I realized I'd been there for an hour without once thinking about how my ex would have been impatient, checking their phone, suggesting we leave. I wasn't shopping in reaction to them or in spite of them. I was just... shopping. Being myself. It was a small moment, but it felt like freedom.

The Other Side

I won't lie to you and say that one day you'll be grateful for the breakup. Maybe you will be, maybe you won't. Some relationships teach us valuable lessons. Some just hurt. Both are valid experiences.

What I can tell you is that there is another side to this. A place where thinking about them doesn't feel like touching a bruise. Where you can remember the good times with fondness instead of longing. Where you can genuinely wish them well, even if you never want to see them again.

Getting over an ex isn't about forgetting them or pretending the relationship didn't matter. It's about integrating the experience into your life story in a way that doesn't define or confine you. It's about taking what served you, leaving what didn't, and moving forward as a fuller version of yourself.

The pain you're feeling right now? It's real and it's valid and it won't last forever. You're going to be okay. More than okay, actually. You're going to be you – a you that's been through something hard and come out the other side. That's no small thing.

So cry when you need to cry. Laugh when something's funny. Take it one day at a time, or one hour at a time, or one breath at a time. Be patient with yourself. Be kind to yourself. And trust that your heart knows how to heal, even when your head is convinced it doesn't.

You've got this. Even when it doesn't feel like it. Especially when it doesn't feel like it.

Authoritative Sources:

Fisher, Helen. Why We Love: The Nature and Chemistry of Romantic Love. Henry Holt and Company, 2004.

Kross, Ethan, et al. "Social Rejection Shares Somatosensory Representations with Physical Pain." Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, vol. 108, no. 15, 2011, pp. 6270-6275.

Levine, Amir and Rachel Heller. Attached: The New Science of Adult Attachment and How It Can Help You Find – and Keep – Love. Penguin Books, 2010.

Perel, Esther. The State of Affairs: Rethinking Infidelity. Harper, 2017.

Sbarra, David A., and Cindy Hazan. "Coregulation, Dysregulation, Self-Regulation: An Integrative Analysis and Empirical Agenda for Understanding Adult Attachment, Separation, Loss, and Recovery." Personality and Social Psychology Review, vol. 12, no. 2, 2008, pp. 141-167.