Alright, let’s be real: after a breakup, your brain feels like an abandoned shopping mall. Empty, echoey — and weirdly fluorescent. You’re tempted to text something like “I miss you…” at 2:43 a.m. while eating leftover pad thai in your pajamas. (Don’t. Or… do. Actually, complicated.)

Most breakup “advice” out there? Cookie-cutter nonsense. It’s all “send this magical text!” or “make them jealous by posting thirst traps!” Like, please. If it was that easy, half of Taylor Swift’s albums wouldn’t exist.

**First thing:** stop treating love like a vending machine. (Insert right strategy, out pops ex.) Healing — real, ugly, stubborn healing — has to happen first.

And not the fake kind where you “work on yourself” just to show them what they’re missing. I mean, *genuinely* figuring out who you are when the “we” evaporates. Maybe you get into rock climbing or finally learn to make sourdough that doesn’t resemble a medieval weapon. Whatever.

Give them (and yourself) the beautiful gift of absence. You know that thing therapists always preach about “no-contact”? Turns out, it’s not just a sadistic ritual. It’s about cooling the nuclear meltdown of emotions so you can think straight. As painful as it sounds (and it sucks like a black hole), **space lets both of you breathe**.

During that breathing room, you gotta level up. Not to “win” — to *survive*.

Take it from Lachlan Brown (real guy, not a robot spewing listicles): he stopped being a human puddle and became…well, someone his ex wanted to talk to again. He didn’t just slap on a new cologne and wait. He tackled the monsters under his emotional bed. (Fear of abandonment, jealousy, you name it.)

Small things snowball. Fix your sleep schedule. Call your mom (but not too often — boundaries, people). Sign up for a pottery class and accidentally make something that looks vaguely obscene. Laugh at yourself.

**Because self-respect is weirdly magnetic.**

Eventually — like, after many bad Tuesdays and awkward grocery store run-ins — you might be ready to reach out. If you do, think less “grand sweeping romantic gesture” and more “chill, heartfelt cup of coffee.” Or maybe a “Hey, remembered you loved that random indie band that’s somehow still touring, thought you’d laugh” text. (Low stakes. High sincerity.)

When you talk? **Be brutally real.**

If you messed up — own it. Not the “I’m sorry you felt that way” faux-pology. The gut-wrenching, “Yeah, I was selfish and scared and I hurt you” honesty. Nobody wants a Hallmark movie character; they want someone who’s messy, trying, real.

But — here’s the kicker — don’t bulldoze them with feelings. Let them have their messy, contradictory emotions too. You’re not auditioning for “The Bachelor.” You’re trying to rebuild a bridge that was, frankly, set on fire.

Oh, and brace yourself: they might not come back.

**Even if you’ve glowed up like Rihanna post-breakup.**

Sometimes timing is an absolute troll. Sometimes people grow…and outgrow. And that’s a heartbreak you can’t out-hustle. Be prepared to let go with (semi-)grace, even if it guts you sideways.

One of Matthew Hussey’s clients — yeah, the same guy who is basically TikTok’s therapist right now — waited almost a *year* before something shifted with his ex. And during that time? He lived. Like, actually LIVED. Traveled. Dated badly. Adopted a cat, probably. (Okay, that part I’m making up, but you get it.)

**Moral of the messy story?**

Reuniting isn’t about crafting the perfect apology text or renting a billboard. It’s becoming the person you’d fall in love with again — scars, bad puns, late-night existential crises and all.

If they come back? Amazing. You can build something new — not Frankenstein the old wreckage.

If they don’t? You’re still moving forward, fueled by something wilder and brighter than old love: **self-love.**

(Also — if you’re gonna drunk-text them? Maybe hand your phone to your dog instead. Honestly, better judgment.)

—