How to move on when you still love someone

I remember the night I realized this. My ex and I had just had another fight—one of those circular arguments that leaves you exhausted and no closer to a solution. We loved each other, sure. But love wasn’t fixing the fact that we wanted different things. He needed space; I needed security. He craved adventure; I craved routine. It wasn’t a failure of love. It was a failure of fit. And that’s okay. You can love someone deeply and still not be right for each other. Write down the reasons it ended—not to punish yourself, but to remind yourself when the nostalgia hits. Keep the list somewhere safe, like a note in your phone. On the days when you miss them so much it hurts, read it. Not to feel bitter, but to remember: this wasn’t just about love. It was about two people who, despite their best efforts, couldn’t make it work. And that doesn’t mean either of you is unlovable. It just means you’re human.

No contact isn’t about being mean. It’s about survival. Every text, every late-night scroll through their Instagram, every "just checking in"—it’s like picking at a scab. You think it’ll help, but it just keeps the wound open. I know it’s hard. There’s this voice in your head that says, What if they realize they made a mistake? or But what if they need me? Here’s the truth: if they wanted to be with you, they would be. And if they’re not, you deserve the space to heal. So delete their number. Unfollow them. Mute their stories. Tell your mutual friends you’re not ready to hear updates. It’ll feel like withdrawal at first—restless, empty, even a little panicky. That’s normal. Your brain is used to having them in your life, and now it’s scrambling to adjust. But give it time. The less you feed the connection, the quieter that voice will become. And one day, you’ll realize you went a whole week without thinking about them. That’s when you’ll know it’s working.

You’re going to have days where you cry in the shower. Where you eat an entire pint of ice cream in one sitting. Where you cancel plans because you can’t fake a smile. And that’s okay. Grief isn’t linear. It’s messy, unpredictable, and sometimes downright ugly. One minute you’re fine, the next you’re sobbing because you heard a song on the radio. There’s no "right" way to feel after a breakup. Some people get angry. Some people shut down. Some people throw themselves into work or hobbies to avoid the pain. None of it is wrong. What is wrong is pretending you’re fine when you’re not. So let yourself fall apart. Call in sick to work if you need to. Cancel plans. Stay in bed all day. Just don’t make a habit of it. The goal isn’t to wallow forever—it’s to give yourself permission to feel everything, so you can eventually move through it. And if anyone judges you for it? That’s their problem, not yours.

Your home should feel like a sanctuary, not a shrine to what you lost. But right now, it’s probably full of little reminders—the coffee mug they left at your place, the hoodie they never picked up, the playlist you made together still sitting in your library. Those things don’t have to go forever, but they shouldn’t be front and center. Start small. Move the hoodie to the back of your closet. Put the mug in a cabinet instead of the dish rack. Rearrange your furniture so the room looks different. Buy a new plant. Hang up a piece of art that has nothing to do with them. Light a candle that smells like something they hated. Tiny changes add up. And if there’s something you can’t bear to part with yet? That’s fine. Put it in a box and tuck it away. You don’t have to burn everything to the ground. You just have to make space for you again.

Remember who you were before they came along? The hobbies you dropped because they weren’t "their thing"? The dreams you put on hold because theirs took priority? It’s time to find her again. I used to love painting, but my ex thought it was a waste of time. So I stopped. After we broke up, I bought a cheap set of watercolors and spent an afternoon splashing color on paper. It was messy, imperfect—and exactly what I needed. Maybe you used to love hiking, or baking, or writing bad poetry. Maybe you’ve always wanted to try salsa dancing or learn Italian. Now’s your chance. Not because you’re trying to "get over them," but because you’re remembering what makes you happy. And here’s the thing: the right person won’t ask you to shrink yourself. They’ll celebrate the things that light you up. So start lighting them up again.

You gave them your time, your energy, your heart. Now it’s time to give those things to yourself. I know, I know—it sounds cheesy. But hear me out. When you’re in love, you show up for the other person in all these little ways. You make them coffee in the morning. You listen when they’re having a bad day. You encourage them to chase their dreams. Why don’t you do those things for you? Start small. Make your favorite breakfast instead of just pouring cereal. Text a friend when you’re feeling lonely. Set a tiny goal—like going for a walk every day—and celebrate when you do it. The more you invest in yourself, the less you’ll feel like you need them to feel whole. And honestly? That’s when you’ll know you’re really moving on. Not because you stopped loving them, but because you started loving yourself just as much.

There’s this unspoken pressure to "get over it" already. Like there’s a timeline for grief, and if you’re not over them in three months (or six, or a year), you’re doing it wrong. But healing isn’t linear. Some days will feel lighter. Others will feel like you’re back at square one. And that’s okay. It doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means you’re human. I once had a friend who compared it to a bruise. At first, it hurts every time you touch it. Then, slowly, the pain fades to a dull ache. One day, you realize you haven’t thought about it in weeks. And then—just like that—it’s gone. You don’t have to force it. You just have to trust that time, and kindness, will do their work. So be patient with yourself. Cry when you need to. Laugh when you can. And know that one day, you’ll wake up and realize the love you feel for them doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s just… love. And that’s enough.