Grief isn't a straight line. It’s more like a messy, tangled ball of yarn that someone threw into a corner. You think you’ve cleaned it up, but then you find a stray thread under the fridge six months later. If you’re sitting there thinking, I still miss someone even though it’s been years, you aren't "broken." You’re just human.
The brain is a strange organ. It doesn't always care about your logic or your calendar. It doesn't care that they treated you like dirt or that you both agreed it was for the best. Sometimes, it just wants that specific hit of dopamine that only that person could provide. It’s a literal neurological withdrawal.
The Science Behind Why We Get Stuck
When we love someone, our brain rewires itself to include them in our "internal map" of the world. Neuroscientists like Dr. Mary-Frances O’Connor, author of The Grieving Brain, have pointed out that the brain actually struggles to update the "prediction" that the person will be there. When they're gone, the map is wrong. Every time you go to text them and remember you can't, your brain hit a "404 Error" code.
That hurts. It actually activates the same physical pain centers as a broken arm.
Most people think grief is about death. It isn’t. It’s about loss of attachment. You can miss a version of someone who doesn't even exist anymore. You can miss the person they were in 2019, even if the 2026 version of them is a total stranger. That’s the "ghost" we carry around. It's an attachment to a memory, not necessarily a living human being.
The Myth of the "Clean Break"
We’ve been sold this lie that closure is something someone else gives you. Like they’re going to sit you down, explain exactly why they stopped loving you, and then you’ll feel fine. Honestly? That basically never happens. Even if they did explain it, you probably wouldn't believe them or it wouldn't feel like "enough."
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Closure is something you take, not something you receive. It's a decision.
You might find yourself doom-scrolling their Instagram at 2 AM. You’re looking for evidence that they’re miserable without you, or maybe evidence that they’re happy, just so you can feel something. This is what psychologists call "intermittent reinforcement." It’s the same thing that keeps people gambling at slot machines. You get a tiny hit of connection, followed by a massive wave of sadness. It keeps the loop alive.
If you want the loop to stop, you have to stop feeding the machine.
When "Moving On" Feels Like Betrayal
There’s a weird guilt that comes with healing. You might feel like if you stop missing them, you’re erasing the history you had. Like the love wasn't real if you aren't suffering for it.
That's a trap.
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Missing someone doesn't mean you still belong with them. It’s possible to deeply love a memory and simultaneously know that the person is wrong for your current life. You can hold both truths at once. It’s called dialectical thinking. It's messy. It’s uncomfortable. But it’s the only way out of the woods.
Identifying the Triggers
Sometimes it isn't the person you miss, but the version of yourself you were when you were with them. Maybe you were younger, more optimistic, or lived in a different city.
- The Sensory Anchor: A specific smell of laundry detergent or a song by a band you both hated.
- The Calendar Effect: Anniversaries, birthdays, or even just the first Tuesday of November.
- The Ego Wound: The feeling that they "won" the breakup because they seem to be doing better.
How to Actually Step Out of the Loop
If you’re stuck in the I still miss someone phase longer than you’d like, you need to change your relationship with the memory. You aren't trying to delete the person from your brain—that’s impossible. You’re trying to move them from the "Active Projects" folder to the "Archives."
The "No Contact" Reality Check. If you are still checking their social media, you aren't grieving; you’re stalking a digital ghost. Every time you see their face, you reset your healing clock to zero. Block, mute, or delete. It’s not petty; it’s surgery.
Audit the Memory. We tend to "halo" people once they’re gone. We remember the way they laughed but forget the way they made us feel invisible at parties. Write down the bad stuff. Write down the times they let you down. Read it when the nostalgia starts to lie to you.
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Expand Your World. If your life is a small room, that person’s absence fills the whole space. If you make your life a giant stadium, their absence is just one empty seat in the back row. Go do something they would have hated. Reclaim the parts of yourself you suppressed to make the relationship work.
Talk to a Professional. If the missing is interfering with your ability to eat, sleep, or work after a significant amount of time, look into "Complicated Grief" or "Prolonged Grief Disorder." There are specific therapies, like EMDR or specialized CBT, designed to help the brain process stuck memories.
Actionable Steps for Today
Stop waiting for the feeling to go away before you start living. The feeling goes away because you start living.
- Delete the photos from your main gallery. Move them to a hidden folder or a thumb drive. Don't delete them forever if you aren't ready, but get them out of your daily scroll.
- Change your environment. Rearrange your furniture. Buy new bedsheets. Your brain associates physical spaces with people. Change the space, change the neural pathways.
- Write the "Unsent Letter." Get all the rage, sadness, and "I miss yous" out on paper. Then burn it or shred it. Do not send it. The goal is catharsis, not a conversation.
The reality is that some people stay in our hearts forever, but they don't have to stay in our way. You can carry the weight of missing someone and still walk forward. Eventually, your muscles get stronger, and the weight feels lighter. It doesn't mean the weight changed; it means you did.