Letting go of the past is something I literally suck at, okay? Like, yesterday I was digging through a shoebox under my bed in this stupidly hot Austin apartment—December 1st and it’s still 78 degrees, Texas is drunk—and found a concert wristband from 2017 that smelled like cheap beer and bad decisions. I sat there on the carpet, AC blasting, holding that sweaty paper bracelet like it was gonna teleport me back to being 27 and clueless. Spoiler: it didn’t. But man, the urge to just… stay there? Real. https://hbr.org/2023/09/how-to-finally-let-go-of-the-past
Why Letting Go of the Past Feels Impossible Some Days Release Past Trauma
I’m the queen of romanticizing garbage. That ex who ghosted me after three years? Suddenly he’s “the one that got away” when I’m lonely and Whataburger is closed. That job I hated in Ohio? Now it’s “when life was simpler.” My brain is a liar and a nostalgia merchant. And I know I’m not special—half my group chat does the same thing. We’ll be texting about rent being due and someone drops a 2014 throwback photo and boom, we’re all crying into our oat-milk lattes.
Here’s the embarrassing part: last month I drove four hours to my old college town “just to see.” I told myself it was for Whataburger spicy ketchup research (don’t ask). Really I wanted to stand outside the apartment where I had my first big heartbreak and see if the universe would apologize. It didn’t. The building’s a freaking Airbnb now. The porch where I cried eating gas-station sushi is booked through 2026. Universe: 1, Me: 0. https://time.com/6283292/how-to-move-on-from-the-past/
The Tiny, Dumb Things That Actually Helped Me Embrace the Future Release Past Trauma
- I started a “burn box.” Every time I find something that hurts to look at—old love letters, that stupid mixtape CD my ex made me—I toss it in this metal tin on my balcony and light it on fire. Neighbors probably think I’m a witch. Worth it.
- Deleted my “On This Day” app. Yeah, there’s apps that just show you your old pain. Who designed that?? Hard block.
- Made a rule: if I’m gonna stalk an ex’s Instagram, I have to Venmo myself $20 first. I’m now $180 richer and slightly less pathetic.
- Started saying “that was a different version of me” out loud. Sounds corny, but it reminds me I’m not stuck being her anymore.
When Letting Go of the Past Backfires (Because Of Course It Does) Release Past Trauma
Tried the whole “forgive and forget” thing with my dad. Wrote the letter, burned it, felt enlightened for 12 hours. Then he texted “happy birthday” three months late and I spiraled again. Turns out letting go isn’t a one-time event—it’s like flossing. You gotta keep doing it or the gunk comes back. Release Past Trauma https://www.apa.org/topics/resilience/letting-go-regrets
Embracing the Future When You’re Broke and Scared (My Current Vibe) Release Past Trauma
I’m 34, rent went up again, and my therapist costs more than my car payment. The future feels like a Tinder date who’s 45 minutes late. But here’s what’s working lately: I started a “future fund” jar. Every time I don’t text an ex, don’t reopen that 2021 photo album, don’t google “whatever happened to [redacted]”—I put $5 in the jar. It’s got $85 in it right now. That’s almost a tattoo of a bird made of cassette tape (don’t tempt me). Release Past Trauma https://tinybuddha.com/blog/how-to-let-go-of-the-past-and-hurt/
Anyway. If you’re sitting there at 1 a.m. reading this while your ex’s Spotify playlist loads—close the tab. Letting go of the past isn’t some Pinterest-quote miracle. It’s messy and small and sometimes you relapse and that’s okay. I’m still relapsing. But I’m also here, typing this while the Austin bats fly over Congress Bridge, and tomorrow I’m buying plants I probably can’t keep alive. That counts as embracing the future, right? Release Past Trauma
Your turn. What’s one thing you’re ready to yeet into the burn box? Tell me in the comments—I read every single one while stress-eating H-E-B sushi at 2 a.m. Solidarity, babes. 🚮✨
