Field Notes on Being Human™: The Myth of “Getting Over It”
A study in how the language of resilience often hides avoidance
There’s a particular phrase that makes my left eye twitch: “You just need to get over it.”
We’ve all heard it. Some of us have internalized it like scripture. And more than a few of us have weaponized it against ourselves when we feel slow, messy, or inconvenient.
But here’s the truth that most people won’t say out loud:
“Getting over it” isn’t healing. It’s avoidance, dressed up as resilience.
The Social Script of Moving On
Culturally, we love a clean arc.
Pain comes, lesson learned, the curtain closes.
Neat. Tidy. Digestible.
Except human beings aren’t theater productions.
When someone says “get over it,” what they usually mean is:
“Your pain is making me uncomfortable, and I’d prefer if you handled that privately.”
It’s not about your healing.
It’s about their threshold.
Trauma Doesn’t Disappear, It Integrates
What we need to stop pretending is that healing is a destination.
It’s not a mountaintop you plant a flag on and proclaim victory.
It’s a process of integration where past experiences stop hijacking your present, not because they’ve vanished, but because you’ve woven them into your story with new meaning, regulation, and agency.
You don’t “get over” childhood abuse.
You don’t “get over” betrayal.
You don’t “get over” grief.
You learn to carry it differently.
That’s healing.
Integration means:
The memory still exists, but it no longer owns you.
The trigger still sparks, but you know what to do with the heat.
The story still hurts, but it’s not the whole story anymore.
Why We Weaponize the Phrase Against Ourselves
Here’s the uncomfortable truth:
Sometimes we tell ourselves to “get over it” because the real work feels terrifying.
Integration requires:
Sitting with the parts of ourselves we’ve exiled.
Feeling the feelings we’ve numbed.
Confronting the patterns we’ve inherited, repeated, or survived.
Avoidance is easier.
Avoidance even looks productive on the surface.
But it’s emotional debt, and it always comes due.
The Nervous System Doesn’t Speak English
If you’ve experienced trauma, your nervous system remembers what your mind tries to forget.
You can say “I’m over it” all you want.
If your heart rate spikes, your breath shortens, your shoulders tense, or your brain goes foggy when you think about it, that’s not weakness. That’s biology.
Your body is doing its job.
Your system is trying to protect you.
And pretending otherwise won’t accelerate healing. It delays it.
The Work Is Not Moving On. The Work Is Moving With.
Healing invites you to walk forward with your story, not away from it.
It says:
“Let’s make space for the parts of you that still shake.”
“Let’s understand, not erase, what shaped you.”
“Let’s integrate what happened so it no longer dictates your worth, your choices, or your future.”
This is the opposite of “getting over it.”
This is earned resilience, not the performative kind, but the real, sturdy, grounded kind that grows from integration.
A Better Framework
Instead of asking:
“Why am I not over this yet?”
Try asking:
What part of me still needs attention?
What emotion haven’t I allowed myself to feel?
What story about myself is this pain trying to rewrite?
What support does my nervous system still need?
These questions move you forward without shaming where you stand.
The Most Radical Sentence You Can Offer Yourself
Let me give you the reframe most people never hear:
There is nothing weak about the parts of you that haven’t ‘gotten over it.’
There is something deeply wise about the parts of you that are still integrating.
Healing is not erasure.
Healing is remembrance without reenactment.
Healing is carrying what happened without letting it carry you.
You’re not behind.
You’re not dramatic.
You’re not stuck.
You’re integrating.
And that’s the bravest work a human can do.