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Have you ever noticed how a breakup sometimes hurts less because of the other person, and more because of what you’ve lost of yourself?
I started this topic three times before I could submit it. Maybe that already says something.
My point is that we don’t just break up with a person. We break up with our “old self”—our old identity, habits, patterns, and behaviors.
In my example, my “old self” was the version of myself who did not have clear boundaries; who expected things that the other person could not give, and who was operating under an illusion about the reality of the relationship.
In other words, I gave up parts of myself so the relationship could continue. Many people don’t realize they are losing themselves until the relationship ends.
Moving on does not mean jumping into another relationship. It means reconnecting with yourself completely and allowing yourself to evolve and learn something new about who you are now.
Very often, when people go back to their old partner, they are not going back because of love; they are going back to what is familiar. They return to old patterns, old behaviors, the same dynamics that were hard to break before. Even if it was painful. Even if they were clearly not themselves. Even if they were silently suffering. But it feels familiar, easy, and comforting.
At some point, it became important for me to ask a simple question: “What did this relationship cost me emotionally?”
Over time, I felt exhausted. Difficult topics were avoided rather than worked through. Issues were left unresolved and accumulated. This dynamic is draining. When communication lacks depth, one person carries the emotional labor for both. Gradually, distance grows until emotional separation happens long before the relationship officially ends.
Many people begin to lose parts of themselves in this process: their voice, their confidence, and clarity. Emotional fatigue turns into withdrawal because the relationship has become exhausting rather than nourishing.
There is a comfort in predictability, even when it is painful. There is also fear of starting over and building a new connection. Investing time and emotional energy again feels overwhelming when you are already drained.
Our nervous system gets used to familiar emotional patterns, even unhealthy ones. What feels “known” can register as safer than what is unknown. This is why people sometimes choose familiar pain over unfamiliar peace. It is how the brain tries to protect us from uncertainty (Mikulincer & Shaver, 2003).
So, we tell ourselves stories. Things will change. My partner will behave differently. We just need more time.
But most of the time, this is an illusion. A pattern is a pattern precisely because it repeats itself, unless both people consciously stop, reflect, and actively work on what is not working. Together. Every single day. Is it possible? Yes, but for most couples, with busy lives, work, kids, and responsibilities, this level of effort is hard to maintain.
Any relationship is work, even friendships. We maintain friendships by making ourselves available, giving advice, and supporting. Romantic relationships take even more: more time, more conversations, more flexibility, more compromises. Sometimes, it can mean giving up parts of yourself that your partner does not like, which can be fine if that’s mutual and healthy. But when problems are constant, it can take almost all of you.
Then you still must be available for work, for kids, for life. And this is where the question appears: Where is the balance? How do you understand if your partner is not eating you alive, or maybe it is you who is eating them alive? Where is that healthy line?
After a breakup, dedicating time to yourself is necessary. Starting to date immediately means burying pain that has not healed yet. You postpone the healing process, and the wound does not magically disappear. It waits. And later, it usually bleeds more painfully and for longer.
Relationships activate dopamine (the “happiness” hormone), oxytocin (the “bonding” hormone), and cortisol (the “stress” hormone) patterns in the brain (Gordon et al., 2008). Separation disrupts these systems. That is why the early phase after a breakup can feel like withdrawal, biologically (Kirckof et al., 2025). The urge to reconnect feels physical. Clarity does not come immediately.
The first weeks after a breakup are extremely difficult. There is emptiness, anxiety, silence, doubt. Psychologically, this happens because the nervous system is adjusting after constant relational stress. Your body was used to emotional tension, anticipation, and attachment, and then suddenly, all of that is gone. This period can feel unbearable because your system is recalibrating, learning how to function without that bond.
Research suggests women often feel more emotional pain immediately after a breakup, whereas men may cope differently, sometimes through distraction or withdrawal, with emotional effects surfacing later (Binghamton University, 2015). Still, the nervous system response, the biological withdrawal, is universal.
But then, slowly, days become lighter. You start to feel freer. It feels like returning to yourself, to the place where you were before you met that person. This is the nervous system settling down again, finding a new sense of safety that is no longer dependent on the relationship.
That is why, while the pain is still fresh, it can be healthier to heal it right away. Take a break from dating. Be with yourself. Learn something new about yourself. Go on dates with your kids or with yourself. Explore beautiful places with people you love, non-romantically. Give yourself at least three months to reconnect with who you are (Acolin et al., 2003). Studies suggest many people begin to feel better within 10–12 weeks (Sbarra, 2006), when emotional distress and nervous system regulation start to stabilize.
Everything comes at the right time. When you are exhausted from a relationship, everything feels heavy, including the idea of love. But when you give yourself time, energy returns. Trust the process.
I recently had a conversation with my daughter about relationships. She is 16. I chose to be her friend rather than resist her and risk her doing things behind my back. Her perspective made me think: She believes it is better to experience breakups and emotional pain earlier in life rather than later.
I realized that avoiding relationships delayed my understanding of myself. My first relationship was at 20, and I avoided dating before that to focus on education. Looking back, I wonder if I could have learned relational self-knowledge earlier—how to build a true connection and what my triggers are.
I even married my ex-husband twice. I don’t regret it, but there is a Russian proverb:
“You can’t enter the same river twice.”
In my case, it was true.
So before going back to your ex, or jumping into a new relationship after a breakup, pause. Ask yourself:
- Is this what I truly want?
- Or am I just avoiding loneliness?
- Am I seeking love, or scratching my ego?
Sometimes, the real breakup we need is not from another person, but from the version of ourselves that no longer fits.
Returning is possible, but only if both reflected and changed, which is rare.
Ask yourself: Who are you afraid to become without this relationship?
