Today I heard news about an ex-partner I been with in years. Five plus. Ancient history, processed, filed.

And still, the mention landed like a trapdoor. My body remembered: tightness, heaviness, sadness.

Familiar once. Rare these days.

the old pattern

My old pattern was simple: panic and analyze.

If it hurts, it must be the most important thing. If I’m feeling it, I must fix it. Immediately.

Why do I feel this way?
What’s wrong with me?
There must be more work to do.
Re-evaluate the whole relationship. Revisit the breakup. Consider reconnection. Draft a plan. Diagnose. Optimize. Publish the post-mortem.

I have a good mind. It’s tempting to use it like a hammer—everything becomes a nail: psychoanalyze, evaluate, craft a plan, run a retrospective, tailor life to a neat diagnostic.

The problem is not capability. It’s reflex.

The mind is a great servant and a terrible master.

a different response

Here’s what took a long time to learn: not every feeling is a call to action.

Not every pang is homework. Especially after years of doing the work—therapy, retreats, workshops, the whole curriculum—sometimes the work is to not work.

A coach of mine once said, “This is just a thing we don’t do anymore. Practice saying: I don’t go there.”

I scoffed (internally). Avoidance? Really?

Don’t we need to understand it to resolve it? If we don’t tackle it, aren’t we just bypassing?

Sometimes, no. Sometimes there is nothing to solve. It isn’t a hole to fill or a mountain to climb. It’s weather.

Let it come. Let it pass.

Rumi’s guest house comes to mind. Feelings are welcome, but they’re guests—not residents.

when the mind makes work

Overthinking feels like progress because it burns energy. But busy isn’t the same as forward.

Much of it is unproductive rumination: no end, no result—what Bahá’u’lláh calls vain imaginings. Whole plans spun in a realm with no manifestation.

So the move is simple (not easy):
I don’t do this anymore.
I’ll do something else. If the feeling stays, let it move through—not calcify.

Sometimes movement needs help: a run, a friend, a text to a coach, writing this down. Anything but sitting in the thought-loops those states of mind tend to retrieve.

This is practice, not talent. It’s easier for me now than five years ago. What took days might take thirty minutes. Or a page. Or a walk.

the immunity fantasy

Here's a perfectionist fantasy: true healing equals immunity.

If I’d really moved on, I’d hear about this person and feel nothing. Maybe exposure helps. But to what end? How often will this even matter if our lives are separate?

Yes, adjacency complicates it. They live in a nearby orbit. I might see them. That stirs anxiety. Do I need to preemptively train for every hypothetical encounter?

No.

Sometimes it’s better to avoid. Sometimes it’s better to let it be, to decline the project.

When the thought shows up—become immune, fix this forever—that’s your cue.

Notice it, name it, and say: I don’t go there.

You don’t have to fix every painful thing inside you.