Stop Trying to Reopen a Door That Closed for a Reason - Gita on How to Forget Someone You Loved
Riya Kumari | May 05, 2025, 00:00 IST
( Image credit : Times Life Bureau )
You ever try texting your ex at 2:07 a.m. after “just one” glass of wine (which was actually four), only to wake up the next morning like: Who hacked me? Who is this emotionally unstable version of me and what does she want from Rohan? Yeah. We've all been there—hovering between tragic and mildly pathetic, romanticizing someone who now has the emotional availability of a bookshelf.
We don’t talk enough about what it really means to let someone go. Not in the way we tweet about it, caption it, or dress it up in soft poetry. I mean truly letting go — of the person, the dream, the “what could’ve been.” And how hard that feels when love was real, but the story wasn't meant to last. There’s a part of you that still checks their last seen. Still replays the last fight. Still thinks maybe — just maybe — if you had been a little more patient, a little less tired, a little more “perfect,” they would’ve stayed. That’s the part that hurts the most. The part that makes moving on feel like betrayal, like giving up on something sacred. But here’s the truth: Love doesn’t always come with a happy ending. Sometimes, it comes as a lesson that arrives dressed like forever.
You Are Only Entitled To Your Actions, Not The Fruits Of Them
This line from the Gita isn't just about work or war. It’s about life. About love. Sometimes you do everything right. You show up with your heart, your honesty, your best intentions. But people still leave. Things still break. Stories still end too soon. The Gita says: Do your part. Love with integrity. But don’t hold your happiness hostage to the outcome.
Let that sink in — your worth, your peace, your future — they do not depend on whether someone stayed. Because sometimes love isn’t a two-way road. Sometimes it’s a bridge you build alone, walk across, and then walk away from.
The Wise Mourn Neither The Living Nor The Dead
At first glance, that sounds harsh. But read deeper — it’s not about being cold. It’s about seeing clearly. Pain is inevitable. But suffering? That comes from holding on to what’s already gone. When someone leaves, we often keep them alive in our heads — replaying the good parts, editing out the reasons it ended. We grieve not just the person, but the version of ourselves we thought we could be with them.
The Gita reminds us: everything that begins will end. Every person who enters your life will one day leave — through change, distance, death, or disconnection. That’s not cruelty. That’s the law of life. Clinging to what has expired doesn’t keep it alive. It only keeps you stuck.
The Soul Is Never Born And Never Dies
This isn't about afterlife theology. It’s about remembering who you are beneath the heartbreak. You are not your relationship status. You are not the person who was left. You are not the mistakes you made when you didn’t know better. The soul — your essence — existed before they came. It will exist long after they’ve become a memory.
Heartbreak may shake your surface, but it cannot touch your core. If you loved deeply, you didn’t lose. You lived. You grew. You became someone wiser, more awake, more capable of seeing what love really means. And that matters more than how the story ended.
Detach But Act
Detachment doesn’t mean indifference. It doesn’t mean pretending you didn’t care. It means learning to care without clinging. To remember without relapsing. To forgive without reopening. It’s not about forgetting them overnight. It’s about choosing not to keep bleeding for something that’s no longer alive.
You can still love someone and know you can’t build a life with them. You can honor what it was and still walk away with your head high. This is the quiet kind of strength. The kind that doesn’t make headlines, but heals you in places no one can see.
So How Do You Forget Someone You Loved?
You don’t erase them. You outgrow them. You stop writing chapters that were never meant to be written. You stop romanticizing their potential and start respecting your reality. You stop knocking on the same closed door and begin noticing the windows opening inside you.
The Gita doesn’t say: don’t feel pain. It says: know the pain — but don’t let it define your path. Let them go, not because they weren’t important, but because your soul has more to do in this lifetime than grieve something that’s already served its purpose.
In The End
We spend so much time looking for closure, when the truth is: most closure isn’t something someone else gives you. It’s the moment you stop needing their permission to heal. So take that love. Let it shape you, not shatter you. And when the past comes knocking in your memory, whisper what the Gita taught us: "That was then. This is now. I am still here. I am still whole. I am moving forward."
You Are Only Entitled To Your Actions, Not The Fruits Of Them
Result
( Image credit : Pexels )
This line from the Gita isn't just about work or war. It’s about life. About love. Sometimes you do everything right. You show up with your heart, your honesty, your best intentions. But people still leave. Things still break. Stories still end too soon. The Gita says: Do your part. Love with integrity. But don’t hold your happiness hostage to the outcome.
Let that sink in — your worth, your peace, your future — they do not depend on whether someone stayed. Because sometimes love isn’t a two-way road. Sometimes it’s a bridge you build alone, walk across, and then walk away from.
The Wise Mourn Neither The Living Nor The Dead
Cry
( Image credit : Pexels )
At first glance, that sounds harsh. But read deeper — it’s not about being cold. It’s about seeing clearly. Pain is inevitable. But suffering? That comes from holding on to what’s already gone. When someone leaves, we often keep them alive in our heads — replaying the good parts, editing out the reasons it ended. We grieve not just the person, but the version of ourselves we thought we could be with them.
The Gita reminds us: everything that begins will end. Every person who enters your life will one day leave — through change, distance, death, or disconnection. That’s not cruelty. That’s the law of life. Clinging to what has expired doesn’t keep it alive. It only keeps you stuck.
The Soul Is Never Born And Never Dies
Walk
( Image credit : Pexels )
This isn't about afterlife theology. It’s about remembering who you are beneath the heartbreak. You are not your relationship status. You are not the person who was left. You are not the mistakes you made when you didn’t know better. The soul — your essence — existed before they came. It will exist long after they’ve become a memory.
Heartbreak may shake your surface, but it cannot touch your core. If you loved deeply, you didn’t lose. You lived. You grew. You became someone wiser, more awake, more capable of seeing what love really means. And that matters more than how the story ended.
Detach But Act
Love
( Image credit : Pexels )
Detachment doesn’t mean indifference. It doesn’t mean pretending you didn’t care. It means learning to care without clinging. To remember without relapsing. To forgive without reopening. It’s not about forgetting them overnight. It’s about choosing not to keep bleeding for something that’s no longer alive.
You can still love someone and know you can’t build a life with them. You can honor what it was and still walk away with your head high. This is the quiet kind of strength. The kind that doesn’t make headlines, but heals you in places no one can see.
So How Do You Forget Someone You Loved?
Detach
( Image credit : Pexels )
You don’t erase them. You outgrow them. You stop writing chapters that were never meant to be written. You stop romanticizing their potential and start respecting your reality. You stop knocking on the same closed door and begin noticing the windows opening inside you.
The Gita doesn’t say: don’t feel pain. It says: know the pain — but don’t let it define your path. Let them go, not because they weren’t important, but because your soul has more to do in this lifetime than grieve something that’s already served its purpose.