How to Get Over Your Ex When Your Brain Refuses to Let Go

Written by someone who once Googled “can heartbreak cause actual brain damage”

After years of continuing to be single, I think I finally cracked it. I’ve perfected the neural pathway for getting over someone. As a lifelong over-thinker, a compulsive ruminator with a flair for the dramatic, I didn’t think I’d make it here. But here I am. And there’s science behind it, which is great, because I love when my coping mechanisms are peer-reviewed.

Ask any of my friends, I don’t do light connections. Casual is a costume I wear for five minutes before something inevitably combusts. I’ve never had a relationship end quietly. No slow fade. No “we just drifted.” Always a twist. Always a flame. Always something to write about.

And so, the blueprint:

Out of Sight, Out of Mind
Scrub them from your social media. Archive the photos. Take the playlist offline. Hide the Polaroid that made you feel seen. You’re not erasing history; you’re reprogramming your brain. Every visual, every breadcrumb, it’s a ping to the same addictive neural loop. You’re not healing; you’re doom-scrolling your own heartbreak. Archive it. It mattered. But now it doesn’t get front-row seats.

You Can’t Be Friends
Controversial, I know. But you can’t be besties with someone who shattered you. Not right away. Not when you're still calculating how long it’s been since they texted. Sure, co-parenting, and some exceptions apply. But most of the time, “we’re still really close” is just code for “one of us is hoping for a miracle.”

Don’t Talk About Them
If something bubbles up, write it out and burn the paper. Or flush it. Or eat it, I don’t care. But don’t talk about them, not with your friends, not on a date, not in the group chat at 2 a.m. You’re conjuring ghosts. And ghosts are clingy. They haunt your syntax and show up when you’re trying to flirt with someone who actually texts back.

Don’t Check On Them
I try to go a full year without updates. No digital peeking, no mutual-friend recon, no “just curious” detours. Because I’ll infer too much. I’ll write fiction. I’ll cast myself in a version of their life that doesn’t exist. Every time I’ve broken that rule, I’ve regretted it. And every time I’ve stuck to it, I’ve looked back a year later and thought, “Oh. Right. That was never going to work.”

Begin Again
know, I know, it sounds like Pinterest advice. But it’s true. If all you focus on is what you don’t want, your brain gets real good at building traps instead of paths. You have to wire it for where you want to go, not the wreckage you’re trying to avoid. My old riding coach said it best: “If you’re staring at the ground waiting to fall, you’re gonna fall. Show the horse where you want to go.” Your brain’s the horse. Hold the reins. Pick a direction. Don’t just brace for impact, ride.

So yeah, maybe love unravels, maybe it combusts. But your brain doesn’t have to build a monument to it. Archive the memories, unlearn the fantasy, and teach your mind a new trail to follow. You're not erasing what mattered. You're just choosing what comes next.