The Unseen Grief of Breakups: Taking Time to Heal

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Breakups aren’t just emotional—they feel like a death. You’re left with an ache that feels bigger than your chest can hold. It’s hard, it’s raw, and no one tells you how long it’s going to hurt.

Society?

It doesn’t really get it.

You’re supposed to bounce back.

Move on.

Get over it.

Don’t cry, don’t wallow—'Get back out there', they say.

'There are plenty of fish in the sea,' they say.

But when you’re in the thick of it, those words fall flat. They sound hollow, even cruel. Because when you’re grieving the end of a relationship, the last thing you want to hear is that you should just forget about it.

You don’t want to move on, not yet—not while the wounds are still raw.

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The real issue is that we’re taught to minimise breakups. We’re told that we shouldn’t be devastated, that we shouldn’t feel as if our world is falling apart. But that’s exactly how it does feel.

People might mean well, but their attempts to distract you—whether it’s through well-meaning advice or outright bad suggestions—don’t make the pain go away.

How can you 'get back out there' when you still feel like you're in pieces? How can you look at anyone else when everything you wanted to give is still locked in the hands of someone who isn't there anymore?

So, what happens when you’re done with dating? When you’re tired of trying to patch up a broken heart with another 'date night plaster' that will just fall off in a few weeks?

What if you’re simply done with all of it? With the small talk, the forced smiles, the pretending that you don’t miss the intimacy of something real? Someone else?

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The truth is, when you’re done with dating, it feels like there’s no 'next step.'

You feel stuck.

And that’s where the problem lies: Society tells us that there’s something wrong with feeling it - with sitting in the grief and the heartbreak - and not stepping into a new narrative.

But the truth is, we need to just let ourselves feel it. The pain, the loss, the confusion. Because in trying to rush through it, we end up missing the chance to actually heal.

It’s hard to heal when you’re still trying to move forward with one foot in the past. And that’s what happens when we force ourselves into new relationships before we’re ready.

Sometimes, it’s better to just sit there, staring at the ceiling, even if that means being alone for a little longer.

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Moving on is not a straight line.

The truth is that healing doesn’t come with timelines. It doesn’t come with rules or a clear guidebook on how to 'fix' yourself. It comes with the mess—the days where you want to cry, where the world feels heavy, and where getting up and going through the motions feels like the hardest thing in the world.

You are allowed to feel terrified or nauseated at the idea of moving on.

If you’ve loved deeply - regardless of how long the relationship lasted - the thought of being without that love is almost too much to handle.

It’s not about wanting to shut everyone out.

It’s about realising that, at this point in the process, the most important thing is learning how to be ok alone.

Not because you’re broken or need someone else to make you feel whole. But because you need to give yourself permission to stop running from the hurt, to stop pretending it doesn’t matter.

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It’s about allowing yourself to break, to feel it all, and to slowly rebuild.

You don’t have to have everything figured out right now. It’s ok to just be in the mess of it for a little while.

So no, you don’t need to jump back on the train.

You don’t need to force yourself into someone else's story just to feel better.

And when you’re ready, you’ll know.

Not because the world tells you it’s time, but because you’ve given yourself the grace to let go of the story that no longer serves you.

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Healing, real healing, isn’t about moving on fast.

It’s about taking the time to feel what you need to feel, to let the pain transform into something that doesn’t define you—but teaches you.

Breakups may feel like death, but they don’t have to be the end of your story.

They can be the beginning of something else, especially if that something else is just you, learning to love yourself again.