Four Things People Believe About How to Forget an Ex

"Find something to keep you busy, child. Busy and you'll forget it all."

My mother said that on the phone, in a voice that truly cared, while I was folded over on the edge of my bed, one knee pulled up, a fan remote still in my hand. I said yes. I said "I know, Mom." And I hung up feeling that something in that sentence was both right and slightly off, without knowing where.

After a breakup the people around you tend to hand over a formula. Everyone has one, usually short, usually said in a firm voice, and usually coming from kindness. This piece gathers the four I heard most, which are also the four I tried, and says honestly how far each one helped.

It is not that any of them is wrong

First, I am not saying those four are made up. Each has a true part, which is why people believe them. What I want to loosen is something else: the idea that "forgetting" is a destination you can reach with one formula, if you only work at it hard enough.

Nor do you owe anyone forgetting. Some people want to remember more lightly instead of forgetting. Some need nothing at all, only more time. None of the four sections below is a test.

Four things people believe, and what sits underneath

"Just keep busy and you'll forget"

That week I took on two more projects at work. Monday through Thursday, back in my room at eleven at night, eating instant noodles standing up, then lying down. I thought it was working. Then on Thursday night, the moment the light went off, the missing walked in complete, like someone who had waited outside the door for four days and was finally invited in.

The true part of "busy and you forget" is that having work to do makes the day go more easily. I do not deny that. But there is another layer beneath it: being busy does not erase missing someone, it only moves the hour. And it tends to move it to exactly the moments you are weakest, late at night or early morning, when no task is left to stand in the way.

What I tried was keeping one small empty stretch, on purpose, inside the busy schedule.

The first time, ten minutes felt like half an hour, and my hand kept itching to open the phone. Some people feel the missing hit harder then. Others find it ordinary. After about a week I noticed nights were less of a surprise, because I had met it a little in daylight. Some people notice no change, and that is fine too. On a day that truly has no room, three minutes on the stairwell after a meeting is enough.

What most easily ruins it is filling that empty stretch with one more task, because "I'm free for ten minutes anyway, so let me finish that report." It sounds responsible, which is why it tempts. But an empty stretch that gets filled just means the missing waits until night. Let those ten minutes be genuinely empty.

"Go out and have a great time, that proves you're fine"

Saturday evening, a grill-and-hotpot place packed with people, smoke drifting, friends raising glasses. I laughed very loudly. One friend took a photo of the whole table, and I held up a peace sign. Quarter past eight, the picture was on my story.

At eleven at night, back in my room, I opened the story to see who had watched. The first name on the list of viewers was one I should not have been hoping to see there.

"Why were you laughing that hard?" I asked myself.

"Because I was having fun."

"Fun for whose benefit?"

I could not answer the last question. And that is what sits underneath: going out, laughing, posting photos are all good things, but when I do them in order to "prove" something, an audience has quietly pulled up a chair at the table. Real fun and performed fun can share the same evening, and it is hard to separate them while sitting in the middle.

What I tried was going out, but with one outing where I did not take a picture.

The first time my hands felt empty, and a few times I almost pulled the phone out. Some people feel relieved at not thinking about angles. Some still want to take pictures, and then take them for themselves, not to post. After a week I noticed I opened the viewer list less. On a busy day it is enough to do this: after posting, turn off story notifications for one night.

A habit that tends to come along is using view counts as the measure of whether you are okay. It tempts because it is a number, and numbers seem objective. But view counts do not measure anyone's sadness. They only measure who tapped.

"Meeting someone new means you stop missing the old one"

A friend set me up with a coworker of hers for dinner. A small Italian place, yellow light, a fake candle in a glass jar. He was easy to be around, asked polite questions, told funny stories. I noticed I was counting: he cut his food differently, laughed differently, did not ask me "are you eating enough" the way the other one used to.

The true part of this belief is that meeting someone else sometimes opens a little breathing room, and there is nothing wrong with dating after a breakup. I am not telling you not to. The layer beneath is that the new person does not stand in the old person's place, because that place is not empty for anyone to stand in. If you go on a date to replace someone, you are comparing a person you barely know with a person you know in every corner, and the one you barely know loses before getting a word in. That is not fair to them, and not fair to you.

Writing it the first time usually feels a bit embarrassing, especially column two. Some people see more clearly what they need. Some still go, and find the date lighter because they know why they are going. Some decide to wait, and that is a kind choice too. The short version for a busy day: ask yourself one question before saying yes, "am I going because I want to, or because I'm afraid of being at home?"

Another thing I see people do often is treating a new person as a solution, then feeling guilty when it does not work. It tempts because it sounds sensible: find someone, tap a button, done. But when someone senses they are being used as a shield, both of you end up tired. If "what if" questions keep returning in the middle of dinner, there is a piece on four steps to release what-if questions after a breakup to try first.

"You have to cry it all out before it's over"

I sat in my car, parked in the lot in front of work, hands still on the wheel, eyes completely dry. I waited. Waited for crying to come like in the films, to feel lighter, to be done. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Outside the windshield people walked by holding paper cups of coffee.

I could not cry. And people say everyone cries after a breakup, and if you do not, it means you have not grieved enough, or you are holding it in. Sitting in the car I started doubting myself: was I just cold?

Underneath there is something simpler: everyone is sad in their own way. Some cry, some snap, some sleep all day, some eat nonstop, some feel numb, like hearing sound through a layer of cotton. Some feel nothing for weeks, then suddenly choke up in an odd place, like a supermarket when a certain song comes on. No way is the standard. Films just choose whatever is easiest to shoot.

The first time I wrote "numb," and it seemed a little funny because it sounded so light. After a week of looking back over the list, I saw it had a shape: Mondays were often "irritable," Sundays often "empty." Some people find this list helpful, some do not. On a busy day, a single dot in your notes is enough.

One last thing: do not compare your sadness with other people's, or with films, and then grade yourself. It tempts because everyone wants to know whether they are doing it "right." But there is no "right." If tiredness is what weighs on you most, there is a piece written for the days you cannot be strong that may suit reading.

If you try and nothing seems different

There are two reasons I see often.

First, you do every exercise and the feeling stays exactly the same. That is okay. These things do not run step by step like cooking. You may be in a stretch where you only need time, and doing more exercises makes you feel you are sitting an exam again. In that case drop them all, keep one, or keep none for a few days.

Second, you are trying all four at once, and the whole week has become a list. Pick just one. Whichever sounds lightest, try that.

If none of these suit you, for example you cannot bear writing, or you do not want to think about this at all, then staying still is also a way. Some people only need someone sitting beside them who says nothing.

My mother called back the next evening. This time I said: "Mom, I can stay busy if I have to, but I still miss them." She was quiet for a while, then said: "Yes. I know." Then she asked whether I had eaten.

When to seek professional support

This article is a list of things people believe and a few small things you can do. It cannot replace treatment, and I am not promising any of this will help you forget or feel lighter.

But here are a few signs you should bring to a professional, rather than carrying them alone:

• For several weeks in a row you use work, alcohol or dating to avoid feeling, and it is getting harder to stop
• You are not eating, not sleeping, or cannot manage everyday tasks even though you try
• You feel completely numb, or uncontrollably angry, for a long stretch
• You think about hurting yourself, even if it is just a passing thought

The last point cannot wait. Speak with someone you trust, today. The Emergency Support page explains what holds true in moments like that.

Seeing a professional is something many people do, and it does not mean you cannot cope on your own.