Missing Someone Hurts—But Is It Love or Attachment? The Gita’s Truth
Riya Kumari | Mar 05, 2025, 22:07 IST
So, you’re sitting there, staring at your phone, re-reading old texts like some tragic protagonist in a black-and-white movie. Maybe they were the one. Maybe it was true love. Maybe Mercury is in retrograde, and that's why they ghosted. Or—wild thought—you’re just attached. I know, I know. That sounds like something your annoyingly Zen friend would say right before lighting incense and telling you to "just let go, babe."
There’s a certain kind of ache that comes when you miss someone. It’s quiet but consuming. You could be in the middle of something—laughing with friends, listening to a song, going about your day—and then suddenly, it hits. The absence. The gap where they used to be. And in that moment, you wonder: Was it love? Is this what love feels like?Or, could it be something else? The Bhagavad Gita, a text that has been guiding people through life’s most complex emotions for thousands of years, has something to say about this. And what it offers isn’t just spiritual wisdom—it’s clarity. A way to separate what is real from what is simply a habit of the heart.
In the Gita, Krishna tells Arjuna that suffering comes not from love, but from attachment. Love, in its purest form, is selfless. It is generous. It is the wish for another’s well-being, even when it doesn’t serve us. Love wants the other person to be happy—even if that happiness has nothing to do with us.
Attachment, though? Attachment is different. It’s not about the other person as much as it is about what they make us feel. We miss them because they gave us a sense of meaning. We hold on because they made life feel a little less uncertain. We grieve not just their absence, but the version of ourselves we were when they were around. And that’s where the pain comes from. Not from love, but from the fear of losing what we thought we needed.
Think about it. If missing someone was always a sign of love, then why do we sometimes miss people who treated us poorly? Why do we long for things that were never really ours? Why do we chase closure from people who have already made their feelings clear?
Because it’s not love we’re missing—it’s familiarity. It’s certainty. It’s the idea that things should have gone differently. And that’s what attachment does. It keeps you trapped in a version of reality that no longer exists. It convinces you that happiness is only possible if you can recreate the past, even when the past is long gone. But the Gita reminds us: nothing is permanent. Everything changes. And the more we resist that truth, the more we suffer.
So, if missing someone is a form of attachment, does that mean we shouldn’t love deeply? Should we stop caring? Should we become indifferent? No. Detachment isn’t about not feeling—it’s about not clinging. It means you can love someone fully, but still accept when their part in your story is over. It means your happiness doesn’t hinge on another person’s presence. It means knowing that love is something you give, not something you need to possess.
And when you truly understand that, missing someone doesn’t feel like suffering anymore. It feels like gratitude. For the moments you shared. For the lessons they brought. For the fact that you had something beautiful—even if it wasn’t meant to stay.
The Gita doesn’t tell us to stop loving. It tells us to love without chains. To cherish without fear. To give without expecting. Because love, when it is real, doesn’t confine—it liberates. So if you’re missing someone today, ask yourself: Am I missing them, or am I holding on to an idea of what they meant to me? Because the answer will tell you whether it was love—or just something you weren’t ready to let go of.
1. Love Sets Free. Attachment Holds On
Engaged
( Image credit : Pexels )
In the Gita, Krishna tells Arjuna that suffering comes not from love, but from attachment. Love, in its purest form, is selfless. It is generous. It is the wish for another’s well-being, even when it doesn’t serve us. Love wants the other person to be happy—even if that happiness has nothing to do with us.
Attachment, though? Attachment is different. It’s not about the other person as much as it is about what they make us feel. We miss them because they gave us a sense of meaning. We hold on because they made life feel a little less uncertain. We grieve not just their absence, but the version of ourselves we were when they were around. And that’s where the pain comes from. Not from love, but from the fear of losing what we thought we needed.
2. Why Attachment Feels Like Love
Date
( Image credit : Pexels )
Think about it. If missing someone was always a sign of love, then why do we sometimes miss people who treated us poorly? Why do we long for things that were never really ours? Why do we chase closure from people who have already made their feelings clear?
Because it’s not love we’re missing—it’s familiarity. It’s certainty. It’s the idea that things should have gone differently. And that’s what attachment does. It keeps you trapped in a version of reality that no longer exists. It convinces you that happiness is only possible if you can recreate the past, even when the past is long gone. But the Gita reminds us: nothing is permanent. Everything changes. And the more we resist that truth, the more we suffer.
3. Letting Go Without Losing Yourself
Love from a far
( Image credit : Pexels )
So, if missing someone is a form of attachment, does that mean we shouldn’t love deeply? Should we stop caring? Should we become indifferent? No. Detachment isn’t about not feeling—it’s about not clinging. It means you can love someone fully, but still accept when their part in your story is over. It means your happiness doesn’t hinge on another person’s presence. It means knowing that love is something you give, not something you need to possess.
And when you truly understand that, missing someone doesn’t feel like suffering anymore. It feels like gratitude. For the moments you shared. For the lessons they brought. For the fact that you had something beautiful—even if it wasn’t meant to stay.