It’s a love hate relationship..
#fyp #mentalhealthawareness #story #ex #love
I think I’m growing up a little bit every day.
Not in the way people think.
Just realizing some things don’t come back no matter how loud you scream for them.
You can love something with everything you’ve got.
Beg for one more chance.
One more conversation.
One more hug.
One more moment.
And it still never comes back.
That’s a hard thing to learn.
Sometimes I sit there wondering if any of it was real.
People say if you truly love something, you never lose it.
Well, I lost what I thought was love.
So what does that make it?
People tell me to stop thinking about it.
Move on.
Get over it.
I don’t understand how.
I never really cared about people much.
Not my neighbors.
Not strangers.
Not what anyone thought of me.
Then I cared.
For the first time in my life I cared that much.
And honestly, I hate that I did.
It almost killed me.
Now it’s just me.
In my head.
In my heart.
Just me.
I guess I’m a sad person.
An angry person.
I have moments I’m not proud of.
But if I look at my life honestly, 25 years isn’t that long.
Seven of those years were good.
The best years I had.
I used to think money would make me happy.
Turns out nothing really does.
Most of us just find different ways to numb what we call life.
Maybe mine became alcohol.
Maybe I made that choice.
Maybe I’m still making it.
Either way, I made my bed.
Now I lay in it.
Funny enough, that’s one of the smartest things she ever said.
The part that bothers me is I still love her.
I don’t know why.
I really don’t.
I cheated.
She moved on.
I lost my mind.
The story should’ve ended there.
But it didn’t.
Every time I close my eyes she’s still there.
Not the real her.
The version that lives in my head.
The version that never left.
The version that still feels like home.
People tell me she moved on.
I know she did.
People tell me she’s never coming back.
I know that too.
The problem isn’t understanding it.
The problem is accepting it.
I think that’s why I drink.
Not because I don’t know the truth.
Because I do.
The truth just hurts.
The longer I sit with it, the more I realize she probably stopped loving me long before I stopped loving her.
Maybe that’s why it hurts so much.
I can see where I failed.
I can see where I pulled away instead of talking.
I can see the ending before it happened.
And instead of fixing it, I helped make it happen.
That’s the part I struggle with.
Not that she left.
That I handed her a reason.
The regret fades some days.
Then comes back.
The love fades some days.
Then comes back too.
I don’t understand either of them.
All I know is nowhere feels safe anymore.
Not my house.
Not somebody else’s bed.
Not the road.
Not the future.
She was home to me.
Maybe that’s unhealthy.
Maybe it’s pathetic.
Maybe it’s true.
I don’t know anymore.
I just know that after all this time, I still wake up looking for a place that doesn’t exist.
And every night I go to sleep hoping tomorrow feels different.
So far it never does.
Experiencing the end of a meaningful relationship can feel like losing a part of yourself. I’ve been there, caught between holding on and the painful process of letting go. One thing that became clear to me is the importance of self-care, even if it means making tough choices like deleting someone from your life on all platforms to reclaim your peace. This act isn’t about erasing memories or pretending the past didn’t happen; it’s about protecting your mental health and allowing room for growth. I remember how difficult it was to accept that love, no matter how deeply felt, doesn’t always last forever. The emotional whirlwind—regret, anger, sadness—can overwhelm us, making it hard to see a way forward. During these times, acknowledging your feelings without judgment is crucial. It's okay to hate how much you cared because it shows how real your emotions were. Another challenge is recognizing that sometimes, the love fades earlier from the other person, and our pain partly stems from this imbalance. Facing this truth is a step toward healing, even if it takes time to fully accept it. I found that sharing my story with others and understanding that I wasn't alone helped me feel less isolated. Turning to numbing habits, like drinking, might seem like a shortcut to escape the pain, but it rarely heals. Instead, focusing on healthy coping strategies—like journaling, therapy, or talking to trusted friends—provides healthier outlets. Remember, healing is not linear. Some days the regret or love returns stronger, while other days they fade. This ebb and flow are normal. Ultimately, finding a new sense of home inside yourself is the most important journey. It took time for me to stop searching for comfort in a place or person that no longer exists and start building safety within myself. If you’re going through something similar, know that it’s a process, and taking those small steps toward self-love and self-care will make a difference over time.
