How to Get Over an Ex: Navigating the Wilderness of Lost Love
Breakups are the emotional equivalent of being dropped in the middle of a forest without a map. You know you need to find your way out, but every path looks the same, and the trees seem to whisper memories you'd rather forget. Scientists have actually discovered that the brain processes romantic rejection in the same regions that register physical pain—which explains why we say heartbreak "hurts" without being metaphorical drama queens about it.
I've spent years observing how people navigate this particular wilderness, both professionally and through my own stumbling journey through the undergrowth of failed relationships. What strikes me most isn't how similar our pain feels, but how wildly different our paths to healing can be.
The Myth of Linear Recovery
Let me bust a particularly stubborn myth right off the bat: there's no neat timeline for getting over someone. That whole "it takes half the length of the relationship to heal" formula? Complete nonsense. I've seen people bounce back from five-year relationships in months and others still nursing wounds from six-month flings years later.
Recovery from heartbreak is more like learning to walk again after an injury. Some days you'll stride confidently forward. Other days, you'll trip over a memory—maybe their favorite song playing in a grocery store—and find yourself back on the ground. This isn't failure; it's just how emotional rehabilitation works.
The brain forms neural pathways around our romantic attachments. When someone becomes part of your daily routine, your neural architecture literally reshapes itself around their presence. Breaking up doesn't immediately demolish these pathways—they're more like worn footpaths through grass that take time to grow over.
Understanding Your Particular Brand of Grief
Not all breakup pain is created equal. The circumstances matter enormously. Being blindsided by a partner who seemed happy yesterday hits differently than watching a relationship slowly deteriorate over months. Being left for someone else creates a specific cocktail of rejection and comparison that straight-up incompatibility doesn't serve.
I remember after my worst breakup, I kept trying to apply advice that simply didn't fit my situation. Friends would say "you're better off without them" when actually, we'd been pretty great together—we just wanted fundamentally different futures. The mismatch between generic comfort and specific reality made everything worse.
Your healing process needs to match your wound. If trust was broken, you'll need different medicine than if you simply grew apart. If you were the one who ended things, you might be dealing with guilt alongside grief—a combination that requires its own approach.
The Contact Conundrum
Ah, the modern torture of digital connection. Our grandparents could move to a different town and never see an ex again. We get to watch them living their best life on Instagram while we're eating cereal for dinner.
Going no-contact is usually the right move, but let's be honest about how brutally difficult it is. You're not just avoiding a person; you're breaking a habit loop that's been reinforced hundreds of times. Every time you checked their social media and got that little hit of connection, your brain noted it as a reward. Now you're asking your brain to quit cold turkey.
Here's what actually works: make it physically harder to check. Delete their number (yes, even if you have it memorized). Unfollow on everything. Use app blockers if you need to. One friend of mine gave her phone to her roommate every night because late-night scrolling was her weakness. Another changed his ex's contact name to "DO NOT CALL - Remember how she made you feel" which sounds harsh but apparently worked wonders.
The urge to reach out will come in waves. Sometimes it'll be overwhelming—usually around 11 PM or after a few drinks. Ride it out. Write the text and delete it. Call a friend instead. Do pushups. Anything except hitting send.
Reclaiming Your Territory
After a breakup, the world suddenly becomes a minefield of memories. That coffee shop where you had your first kiss. The park where you walked their dog together. Even your own apartment can feel haunted by their absence.
You've got two choices: avoid these places forever (impractical) or reclaim them. I'm a big advocate for reclamation, but timing matters. Don't force yourself to have lunch at "your" restaurant the week after splitting up. But when you're ready—and you'll know when you're ready—go back with friends. Create new associations. Layer fresh memories over the old ones.
Same goes for activities you did together. Just because you learned to rock climb with your ex doesn't mean you have to give up climbing. Though maybe find a different gym for a while.
The Rebound Debate
Everyone has opinions about rebounds. Some swear by them as palate cleansers. Others insist you need to be completely healed before dating again. The truth, as usual, lives somewhere in the messy middle.
Casual dating can remind you that other people exist and find you attractive. That can be healing. But trying to replace your ex with a carbon copy? That's just using someone else as an emotional band-aid, and it usually ends with two hurt people instead of one.
The key question isn't "how long should I wait?" but "why do I want to date right now?" If the answer is "because I can't stand being alone" or "to make my ex jealous," maybe hold off. If it's "because I met someone interesting and want to see where it goes," that's different.
Dealing with the Stuff
Physical reminders are their own challenge. That hoodie that still smells like them. The book they gave you for your birthday. The shared Netflix account you're both too stubborn to change the password on.
Some people advocate for a complete purge—burn it all, fresh start. Others say keep everything, that throwing away mementos is like trying to erase history. I think both extremes miss the point.
Pack away the loaded items—the love letters, the photos, the anniversary gifts. Put them in a box, tape it shut, and stick it somewhere inconvenient. You're not throwing away your history, but you're not leaving it on display either. Keep the practical stuff if you want. A good hoodie is a good hoodie, regardless of its romantic provenance.
The Identity Crisis Nobody Talks About
Here's something that blindsided me: after a long relationship, you might not remember who you were before it. You've spent so long as part of a unit that your individual identity feels fuzzy. What music do YOU like, versus what you listened to together? What do you actually want to do on weekends when you're not compromising with someone else?
This identity confusion is normal but deeply unsettling. You might find yourself standing in the grocery store, unable to remember what foods you actually enjoy versus what you bought because they liked it. It's like relationship Stockholm syndrome—you've adapted so thoroughly to shared life that solo preferences feel foreign.
Use this disorientation as an opportunity. Try things you never did as a couple. Say yes to invitations you would have declined. Eat at restaurants they hated. Watch the TV shows they found boring. You're not just getting over someone; you're getting back to yourself—or maybe discovering a new version.
When Healing Isn't Linear
Some days you'll feel fantastic. You'll catch yourself humming, realize you haven't thought about them in hours, and think "I'm over it!" Then you'll smell their perfume on a stranger and spend the rest of the day in a funk.
This emotional whiplash is exhausting but normal. Healing isn't a steady upward trajectory. It's more like a stock market chart—general upward trend with daily fluctuations and occasional crashes. The crashes become less frequent and less severe over time, but they might never disappear entirely.
I still occasionally get a pang about someone I dated fifteen years ago. Not because I want them back—I really, really don't—but because certain memories are permanently tinged with sweetness and loss. That's not pathology; that's being human.
The Comparison Trap
Social media makes breakups exponentially harder. Not only can you cyber-stalk your ex, but you're also bombarded with everyone else's highlight reels while you're sitting in your emotional crater. Your college roommate just got engaged. Your ex posted photos from Cabo. Meanwhile, you're considering whether eating cheese straight from the block counts as dinner.
Remember: nobody posts their crying jags on Instagram. That friend with the perfect relationship? They fight about whose turn it is to clean the bathroom. Your ex looking amazing in those beach photos? They probably took 47 shots to get one good one, and they might be just as miserable as you are.
Comparison is particularly poisonous when you're already vulnerable. If social media makes you feel worse, take a break. Delete the apps for a while. Your real friends will still be there when you get back.
Finding Meaning in the Mess
At some point—and this timing varies wildly—you might start seeing the breakup as something other than pure catastrophe. Maybe you'll recognize patterns you want to change. Maybe you'll appreciate lessons learned, even if the tuition was brutal.
This doesn't mean you need to be grateful for heartbreak or pretend it was "meant to be." That's toxic positivity nonsense. But humans are meaning-making machines, and eventually, most of us find ways to integrate painful experiences into our life story that doesn't make us purely victims.
For me, the worst breakup taught me about my own capacity for self-deception. I'd ignored red flags because I wanted things to work. That painful recognition changed how I approach relationships now—I'm more honest with myself about what I'm actually seeing versus what I want to see.
The New Normal
Eventually—and I promise this will happen—you'll realize you've built a new normal. The acute pain will have faded to a dull ache, then to occasional twinges. You'll have new routines that don't include them. You'll catch yourself genuinely laughing at something stupid.
This new normal might not look like your old life. You might be different—more cautious or more bold, more independent or more appreciative of connection. That's okay. Heartbreak changes us. The goal isn't to get back to who you were before; it's to become who you're supposed to be next.
One day you'll run into them, or see their photo, or hear your song, and feel... not much. Maybe a gentle nostalgia, like looking at old yearbook photos. That indifference isn't cold or cruel—it's freedom. It means you've successfully relocated them from the present to the past, where they belong.
Until then? Be patient with yourself. Healing takes the time it takes. Some days you'll handle it with grace, and some days you'll ugly cry into a pint of ice cream. Both are valid. Both are human. Both are part of finding your way out of the forest and back to yourself.
The path is there, even when you can't see it. Keep walking.
Authoritative Sources:
Fisher, Helen E., et al. "Reward, Addiction, and Emotion Regulation Systems Associated With Rejection in Love." Journal of Neurophysiology, vol. 104, no. 1, 2010, pp. 51-60.
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.
Lewandowski, Gary W., and Nicole M. Bizzoco. "Addition Through Subtraction: Growth Following the Dissolution of a Low Quality Relationship." The Journal of Positive Psychology, vol. 2, no. 1, 2007, pp. 40-54.
Marshall, Tara C. "Facebook Surveillance of Former Romantic Partners: Associations with PostBreakup Recovery and Personal Growth." Cyberpsychology, Behavior, and Social Networking, vol. 15, no. 10, 2012, pp. 521-526.
Spielmann, Stephanie S., et al. "Settling for Less Out of Fear of Being Single." Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, vol. 105, no. 6, 2013, pp. 1049-1073.