Things You Must Do To Cut Ties With Him Forever
Cutting ties sounds so simple on paper—“Just block him and move on,” right? But we all know it’s rarely that clean.
There’s a whole psychological ecosystem at play, especially when you’ve been emotionally entangled for months or even years. I’ve seen this with clients again and again—it’s not the absence of love that keeps people stuck, it’s the unresolved cognitive loops.
You start to believe you owe him closure, or that if you wait just a little longer, he’ll change. Sometimes, it’s the pattern of intermittent reinforcement that traps you—the highs and lows keep your nervous system on edge, craving another dopamine hit.
And here’s the kicker: even if your logical brain says he’s bad for me, your emotional body might still associate him with safety, comfort, or identity. So yeah, letting go isn’t just cutting contact.
It’s unlearning the version of yourself that was tied to him.
Do the emotional work before anything else
Before we get to logistics—blocking, deleting, avoiding—we’ve got to unpack what’s going on internally. Most people try to go no-contact while still mentally tethered. That’s like deleting your dealer’s number without addressing the addiction. Doesn’t work long-term. Here’s how I break it down when I talk to folks who know this terrain but still find themselves slipping back.
Start by identifying the real emotional hooks
Every attachment has a different texture. Some people are hooked by guilt: “I don’t want to hurt him.” Others by fantasy: “We had such potential.” Or fear: “What if I never find someone else?” These aren’t surface-level excuses—they’re deeply embedded beliefs.
Take the guilt one. If you were socialized to be a caretaker or peacekeeper, cutting someone off can feel like betrayal, even if they’re hurting you. You might tell yourself, “He wasn’t that bad,” just to justify staying. But guilt is a manipulative emotion in this context—it convinces you that preserving someone else’s comfort is more important than your own peace.
And then there’s hope. Ugh, hope can be brutal. It keeps you stuck in a relationship’s potential rather than its reality. He could be great, if only he went to therapy, stopped lying, learned to communicate. But as I always say: “Hope without evidence is a trap.”
Redefine who you are outside of him
This is the part that gets underestimated—how your sense of identity can become entangled with someone else. If your daily rhythm, future plans, even your social circles revolved around him, suddenly removing that can feel like an existential collapse. You’re not just losing a partner. You’re losing part of your map.
One client of mine realized she hadn’t made a solo decision in two years. Every outfit, every weekend plan, every career pivot ran through the filter of what he would think. When she finally broke it off, she had this eerie feeling of emptiness. Not grief, exactly. More like “I don’t know who I am now.” That’s what makes people boomerang back—not love, but the void.
So the work here isn’t just mourning the relationship—it’s reconstructing you. What do you actually want to do on a Sunday morning? Who do you trust for advice, if not him? When you strip away his voice in your head, what’s left? This process is both terrifying and liberating. You get to meet yourself again, without the distortion.
Understand withdrawal for what it really is
Here’s something that might surprise even the seasoned among us: the end of a toxic relationship can mimic drug withdrawal. That’s not a metaphor—that’s neuroscience. When you’re in a high-conflict or push-pull dynamic, your brain gets flooded with cortisol, adrenaline, and, yes, dopamine. It’s a chemical rollercoaster. And when you step off it? Your body crashes.
This is when people tend to relapse. They mistake the physiological symptoms—restlessness, irritability, intrusive thoughts—as signs that they miss him or need closure. Nope. You’re detoxing.
I always tell people: treat the first 30 days like recovery. You’ll want to text. You’ll want to check his profile. You’ll want to “just get some clarity.” But those are cravings, not clarity. You don’t owe your ex a perfect goodbye. You owe yourself a clean break.
Try this exercise: journal your truths
When you’re in that shaky early stage, your memory gets selective. You’ll suddenly remember how he brought you soup when you were sick—but not how he ignored your boundaries the next day. So, write it all down now, while your head is still clear. Make a “Truth File.”
Include:
- What he did that hurt you (even the subtle stuff)
- How you felt being with him on a regular day—not just the highs
- What patterns kept repeating
- What you had to shrink or give up to stay
Refer to this when your brain tries to romanticize the past. It will. That’s normal. But having your grounded truth in black and white will anchor you when the nostalgia hits.
Bottom line? Emotional detachment is a deliberate, messy, brave process. You don’t just fall out of love. You unbuild the scaffolding that held you in place. And if you don’t do this part first, all the blocking and deleting in the world won’t hold. Because your mind will find loopholes. But when your heart is done? That’s when it gets quiet. That’s when it finally sticks.
Cut all contact and remove every trace
If you’ve done the emotional groundwork, it’s time for the part everyone fixates on—no contact. But let me be real: most people totally underestimate what no contact actually involves. It’s not just blocking his number and moving on with your life. It’s a systematic dismantling of every access point—physical, emotional, digital, and social.
I’ve seen people who are masters at understanding attachment theory and trauma loops still slip up here. Why? Because they leave back doors open. Tiny windows of access, “just in case.” But if you’re serious about ending this—really serious—you’ve got to remove every single breadcrumb that could lead either of you back to each other.
Start with the obvious: block and delete everything
This is where people say, “But what if he needs to reach out for something important?” He doesn’t. If he owes you money or shares custody or there’s anything legal to manage, there are controlled ways to handle that (we’ll get to that later). But for now, block him on everything.
Here’s what that looks like:
- Phone number (and don’t just block—delete the contact so you’re not tempted to check)
- Text messaging apps (WhatsApp, Signal, Telegram, etc.)
- Social media (Instagram, Facebook, Twitter/X, Snapchat, TikTok—all of them)
- Email (create a filter so messages from him go straight to trash or a special “ignore” folder)
And don’t just block him—remove yourself from his world, too. That means unfollowing his friends and family, leaving any shared groups, and turning off notifications that could show you his activity.
Go deeper: clean up the digital residue
The reason most people relapse isn’t because they talk to him—it’s because they see him. His face pops up on “memories,” his playlist hits you in the middle of a commute, your shared Google Calendar still pings with “anniversary dinner.”
Digital clutter is emotional landmines.
Here’s your cleanup checklist:
- Photos & videos: Move them to a locked archive or external drive if you’re not ready to delete. But get them off your phone.
- Playlists: Yes, even the one you made together. Especially that one.
- Saved passwords: If you still have login info to his Netflix or Spotify, change it or let it go. It’s a tether.
- Shared docs or apps: Cancel co-signed subscriptions. Unlink cloud albums. Remove yourself from any shared platforms.
Think of it like digital feng shui—make space for your future self by scrubbing out the past.
Don’t forget the social layer
This is sneaky. You’ve done the blocking and deleting, but now you start hearing things through the grapevine. Mutual friends, your cousin who still follows him, that friend who “doesn’t want to take sides” but keeps mentioning what he posted.
Shut it down.
You don’t need to make a dramatic announcement. Just say something like, “Hey, I’m healing and trying to move forward. I’d rather not hear updates about him. Can we avoid that?” The people who respect you will get it. The ones who don’t…well, that tells you something.
Also—consider muting mutual friends temporarily if their posts keep triggering memories. This isn’t petty. It’s protective.
When exceptions are necessary
I hear you: “What if I have to stay in contact for legal or logistical reasons?” Okay. That’s real. But it still doesn’t mean emotional access.
Set up boundaries like:
- A dedicated email address for communication that’s separate from your personal inbox
- Use a parenting app or legal portal if co-parenting is involved
- No “friendly” check-ins. No reminiscing. Keep it factual, short, and cold
Think of this as interacting with a landlord—not a former lover.
Create a new world that doesn’t include him
Here’s something I always emphasize: cutting ties is only half the work. Once you’ve dismantled the relationship, you’ve got to fill that space with something. And I don’t mean distractions. I mean real, life-giving reinforcements—the kind that help you build an identity and environment where he simply doesn’t fit anymore.
This is the difference between “I’m surviving without him” and “He has no place in the life I’m building now.”
Build structure where there used to be chaos
A lot of people don’t realize how much structure a dysfunctional relationship provides. Even if it’s painful, it’s predictable. The drama becomes routine. The overthinking gives your mind something to chew on. And once that’s gone? There’s a vacuum.
Fill it on purpose. Make your days boring—in the best way.
- Create a new morning routine that centers you: movement, meditation, journaling, a walk without your phone.
- Plan your evenings ahead so you’re not just sitting with your feelings and getting pulled into nostalgia spirals.
- Schedule novelty: new cafes, new books, new hobbies. Your brain is wired for stimulation—give it the good kind.
Reconnect with people who see you
Toxic relationships often shrink your social world. You cancel on friends, keep secrets, or slowly fade from community. Now’s the time to reverse that.
Reach out to the friend you ghosted. Join a group or class just because it interests you. Volunteer. Start therapy. You don’t need to explain your breakup—you just need people who reflect your worth back to you.
One client joined a salsa class because she wanted to move her body again. She said, “It was the first time in years I was in a room full of men and didn’t feel scared or scrutinized.” That’s healing.
Change your space to match your growth
I’m a huge believer in spatial transformation as emotional closure. If you shared a space with him, or if your home still feels like his ghost lives there, change it.
- Get rid of objects that carry emotional residue—gifts, notes, that sweater that still smells like him
- Rearrange your furniture—seriously. A new layout = new neural pathways
- Buy something small but meaningful that marks this shift. New bedsheets. A candle. A plant you name after your freedom
These physical shifts signal to your brain: we’re not going back there.
Use tools to reinforce the boundary
This is where tech can work for you instead of against you. Use habit trackers, reminders, and digital tools to maintain the wall.
Some ideas:
- An app like Freedom to block access to his socials when you feel tempted
- A daily “no contact streak” you track like a sobriety calendar
- A burner journal—write every urge to contact him in there instead of acting on it
Turn your healing into a system. Make it unromantic and methodical. That’s where the power is.
Final Thoughts
This isn’t about being strong or cold or proving anything to him. It’s about choosing yourself in a way that’s irrevocable. A clean break doesn’t mean you didn’t love him. It means you love your peace more.
No-contact isn’t just a breakup strategy. It’s a reclamation of attention, energy, identity. And yeah, it’s hard. There will be moments you shake. Moments you almost call. But one day, that silence will feel like a gift instead of a void. And when it does?
That’s when you know it’s really over. That’s when you know you’re free.
