You’ve heard the advice a hundred times and maybe even here a few times. Let it go. Put the past behind you. Move forward. Move on. It sounds clean and empowering—like something you’d see on a motivational poster or hear in a graduation speech. However, that advice is useless if it doesn’t come with a “how.”
You don’t just decide to move on from trauma the same way you decide what to have for dinner. The past doesn’t stay buried just because you tell it to. If it did, we’d all be emotionally light, free of baggage, and sleeping soundly. Instead, most people carry their past like a ghost in their backpack that is present, invisible to others, and far heavier than it looks. The thing with emotional trauma is that others can’t see it. It’s not like a broken leg where you are hobbling along on crutches for a few weeks. Everyone sees that. Only you can “see” emotional trauma within you and how it may affect you to this day.
How do you actually put the past behind you and move forward? Here’s a roadmap. It’s not linear, and it’s not magic. But it’s real.
Stop pretending it didn’t happen. One of the most common coping mechanisms people adopt is denial. “It wasn’t that bad.” “I’ve moved on.” “Other people have it worse.” But trauma doesn’t disappear because you downplay it. It waits. And it leaks into relationships, decisions, employment, habits, moods, and even physical health. Ignoring it only delays the healing. The first step isn’t about moving on. It’s about looking back honestly without sugarcoating or comparing your pain to other people.
It’s about looking back without judgment and acknowledging that it hurt and it did shape you, and you may still carry all or at least part of it. It’s a wound, or wounds, you have to look at before treating it, just like a physical wound.
Grieve what was lost. Trauma often comes with loss; not just of people, but of trust, identity, innocence, safety, and dreams. And you have to grieve those things before you can move forward. Grief isn’t a one-day process and doesn’t stick to a schedule. On that last point, don’t ever let anyone tell you that you should be over something by now, according to their timetable. I had one jackass tell me that after a traumatic event and I’ve barely spoken to him since. Trauma doesn’t always involve tears. Sometimes grief shows up as numbness, burnout, anger, apathy, depression, anxiety, poor sleep, procrastination, fatigue, frustration, or withdrawal. Sometimes all of those at the same time, or one right after the other. Let yourself feel it. All of it, right down to the core you, the deepest part of you. And understand that grieving doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means you’re human. It means you’re clearing space. Without suffering what was, you can’t fully embrace what could be.
Name the impact. Ask yourself: How has this trauma affected me? Do I struggle to trust people? Do I avoid closeness? Do I overwork to distract myself? Do I sabotage good things? Do I blame myself for things that weren’t my fault? Write it down. Say it out loud. Talk it through with someone you trust, whether that be your concept of a higher power, a close friend, or both. Naming the impact doesn’t reinforce victimhood; it reclaims power. It makes the invisible visible. And once you know what’s broken, you can start to rebuild.
Choose healing over numbing. Moving ahead doesn’t mean stuffing the pain down and distracting yourself with productivity, achievements, or addictions (yes, even “good” ones like work and fitness can be used to avoid healing). At some point, you have to choose healing over numbing. That could mean therapy and journaling. It could mean trauma-informed coaching, group support, EMDR, or just carving out time every week to check in with yourself emotionally. Yeah, it will feel awkward and even self-indulgent. But it’s the difference between surviving and truly living.
Let go of the timeline. You don’t heal on a clock, yours or anyone else’s. You don’t “get over” betrayal or abuse or abandonment in six weeks. Some wounds take years to scar over. Others never disappear entirely—they just stop bleeding. Release the pressure to be “done.” The goal isn’t to forget. The goal is to live fully what happened, not because of it, nor in spite of it, but with it as part of your story. This isn’t a sprint or even a marathon. It’s a lifelong practice and a series of choices. And you don’t have to, and won’t, get it perfect to make progress.
Redefine yourself without the trauma. Eventually, you reach a place where you get to ask: Who am I without this pain as my primary identity? For a long time, your trauma might have defined you. And in some ways, it may have even protected you. But healing means growing past it, not staying trapped in it. Start small: What do I value now? What brings me joy? What do I want my future relationships to look like? How do I speak to myself now that I know better? You’re not erasing the past—you’re integrating it. You’re making peace with it so it doesn’t write your future chapters for you.
Build a life that supports you because this is the practical side of healing. Once you’ve done the inner work, you have to align your outer life with it: Set boundaries with people who re-trigger your pain, you may have to cut them off for your protection; leave environments that keep you stuck; pursue work, hobbies, and relationships that reflect your growth; let yourself have good days; allow laughter; welcome peace, even if it feels unfamiliar. Don’t just “move ahead” in theory, build ahead in practice.
You deserve a future that isn’t held hostage by your past. The past may have shaped you and done some severe damage, but it doesn’t get to own you. You can put it behind you. Not by forgetting it and not by pretending it never happened. But by facing it, processing it, grieving it, learning from it, and then, slowly but surely, choosing something better every day. You’re allowed to move forward and don’t have to carry the whole weight with you when you do.
John Berkovich Talks 