You're having a good day. Maybe even a good week. You're starting to feel stronger, more like yourself. You think, "I'm actually doing this. I'm moving on."
And then, out of nowhere, it hits you. A song comes on the radio while you're driving. You see a post on social media. Or for no reason at all, a huge wave of "I miss them" crashes over you.
Your heart races. Your stomach drops. Your first thought is, "What does this mean? Am I not over them? Did I make a mistake?" And then comes the most dangerous impulse of all: the urge to reach out. To text them, to call, just to get a small hit of the connection you're suddenly craving.
What helped me
I know this feeling so well. For a while after my breakup I kept following her on social media. I told myself it would be childish or dramatic to unfollow her. But one day I saw a post of hers and it just didn't make me feel good. It was like a punch to the gut. In that moment I knew I had to disconnect for my own wellbeing, for my own safety. So I unfollowed her. It wasn't childish. It was protecting my healing.
Even after that, the feelings still came. There were nights I desperately wanted to talk to her, to tell her how I felt. So I tried something new. I wrote a letter I knew I'd never send. I poured everything onto the page: the anger, the sadness, the good memories, the pain. When I was done, I felt a real sense of release. It cleaned me out. I still had healing ahead of me, of course, but after that letter I felt so much lighter and so much more hopeful.
Missing them is normal
That brings me to the most important thing I want you to hear. If you miss your ex, it's completely normal. I feel you. It's okay to miss them.
You spent a huge amount of time with that person. You built a life with them. You shared inside jokes, favourite restaurants, hopes, dreams and thousands of tiny everyday memories. Your brain built habits of thinking and feeling around them. The good-morning text, the call on your drive home, your show together at night: these weren't just routines. Their presence was the background music to your days, and now all you hear is silence. That doesn't disappear in a day, a week or even a month.
When you miss them, you're not just missing a person. You're grieving a routine. You're grieving the future you'd planned together, and the person you were when you were with them. Those connections run deep, and it takes time for them to fade and for new ones to form. Part of healing is remembering. Part of healing is grieving what was lost. You're rebuilding yourself piece by piece, and that's a process. Be patient with it.
Know your triggers
So when that wave of missing them hits, what do you do? You need an emergency plan, a toolkit to turn to instead of your phone. But first, let's be proactive and make a plan for before the wave.
That means knowing your triggers. A trigger is anything that reliably brings on the wave. It could be a time of day, like lonely Sunday nights. A place, like driving past a restaurant you used to go to. A song, a movie, or a certain kind of post on social media. Take a moment to identify your top three triggers and write them down. Just knowing them takes away their power to surprise you.
For a while, you can choose to avoid them. But here's a stronger idea: when you feel ready, start retraining your brain by making new memories. Go to that same restaurant with a good friend, and laugh. Play that same song, and dance around your living room by yourself. Over time those places and songs start to belong to you again, not to the memory of them.
Three tools for when the wave hits
For the moments the wave comes anyway, here's what you need.
First, understand that these feelings come in waves. This matters so much. A wave of longing can feel huge and endless, like it will last forever. It won't. Picture it. You feel it building in your chest, that tightness. That's the wave rising. It reaches a peak, the moment the urge to text them is almost unbearable. That's the crest. But if you hold on, it starts to recede. The tightness eases. You can breathe again. A wave has a beginning, a middle and an end. Your only job during it is to hold on and not do anything that undoes your progress. Ride it out.
Second, keep a list of healthy distractions. You know the waves will come, so be ready. Make a list of good things, hobbies and healthy distractions you can turn to the moment a wave starts:
- Physical: put on your shoes and walk, even for five minutes. Stretch. Put on a workout video.
- Creative: doodle in a notebook. Play an instrument. Write a few lines of a poem.
- Social: call a friend or family member who lifts you up. Send a funny meme to a group chat.
- Mindful: put on a favourite podcast. Listen to a guided meditation. Watch a comfort film or a funny show.
Keep the list on your phone or in a notebook. When the wave hits, you don't have to think. You look at the list and act.
Third, and maybe most powerful, is the one I used myself: write a letter you'll never send.
Every time you feel the urge to text your ex, to tell them off or tell them you miss them, open a notebook and write it to them as a letter instead. This is your safe space to be completely unfiltered. If you're angry, write the angry words. If you're sad, describe the sadness. If a good memory hurts, write it down. Get every feeling onto the page.
It works because it gets your thoughts out of the loop in your head and onto paper, where you can see them. It gives you the release you're craving without the real-world consequences. When you're done, keep it, throw it away, or do what I find most powerful: a small ritual. Burn the letter safely, and as the smoke rises, picture yourself releasing those feelings. The magic is in the writing, not the sending. (I wrote more about this exercise in how to stop yourself from texting your ex.)
Why sending the text sets you back
It's important to understand what sending a real message costs. Texting your ex will almost always take you backwards, because you're opening a door that needs to stay closed for you to heal. You're looking for a particular reaction, and whether you get it or not, it will probably hurt more. If they don't reply, it's a fresh rejection. If they do, you get a brief hit of connection that restarts the cycle of longing. It puts you back into waiting and wanting, and it breaks the momentum you've built.
Writing the letter gives you the emotional release without the emotional setback.
This week
Prepare your toolkit. Open a notebook or a note on your phone and:
- Write down your top three triggers.
- Make your healthy distraction list, with at least two options for each category: physical, creative, social and mindful.
- Set aside a notebook to be your unsent letter journal.
You can't control when the waves of grief will come. But you can learn how to surf.
Every time you feel the urge and choose a healthy action instead, you're rewiring your brain. You're building a new habit of self-reliance and self-respect. This feeling isn't a sign you're failing at healing. It's a chance to get better at riding the wave.
