this is probably going to read more like a journal entry than a typical reddit post, but i’ve posted here throughout my breakup, and i think this is my final update. for the first time in months, i’m feeling something other than anxiety, anger, and confusion. i actually feel peace.
my ex and i were together on and off for almost seven years. seven years of loving someone, believing in their potential, forgiving things i shouldn’t have, and constantly trying to understand behavior that never made sense.
there was always something. unfinished school, another career obsession, another project he swore would change his life, endless cycles of adderall, productivity tracking, sleep schedules, therapy, and promises that things would finally be different. i spent years supporting him and believing in the person he kept promising he would become. somewhere along the way, i completely lost myself.
toward the end, i discovered he’d been cheating on me. but honestly, the cheating wasn’t even the worst part. it was the lying, hiding, and constant manipulation of my reality.
one incident i’ll never forget is what i call the paris incident. while he was practically living at my apartment, he accidentally texted me thinking he was texting the girl he was cheating with, who was in paris at the time. i pieced that together through her instagram. he was texting her just hours before coming over to sleep in my bed. when confronted, he denied everything until i essentially forced the truth out of him.
that was our pattern. i’d discover something, he’d deny it, i’d question myself, and eventually some version of the truth would come out.
when i finally ended things, i tried to handle it like an adult. i arranged for him to collect his belongings while i was at a concert. he had a key, so he could take his things, leave the key, and we wouldn’t have to see each other. that morning, he canceled because he supposedly had to reschedule something.
when he eventually came to get his things, he confessed that he’d been sad about our breakup, so he’d gone and had sex with the girl he cheated on me with.
we eventually had one final conversation, which i recorded because years of gaslighting had genuinely made me question my own memory and reality. i needed proof of what was actually being said.
one of the first things he asked was whether i’d contacted her. whether i’d told her anything. even while ending our seven-year relationship, he seemed more concerned about her opinion of him than anything else.
and here’s the saddest part. i essentially gave him my blessing.
i told him i knew he’d probably end up with her, and that i hoped he’d learn from our relationship and treat her better than he treated me. i wished him happiness. i wanted to leave the situation with some dignity and control over my own ending.
he completely broke down. sobbing, physically throwing up, insisting he could NEVER be with her because she’d ruined something important to him. he denied wanting her over and over. i remember telling him i knew he was lying, but it didn’t matter anymore.
again, i have that entire conversation recorded. i know exactly what he said.
we went no contact, and slowly i started healing. therapy, traveling, spending time with friends, even dating again. i was finally accepting that our relationship was over.
then, about two months later, he broke no contact.
not to apologize or take accountability, but to essentially tell me we should continue not speaking and, completely unprompted, double down on the fact that he was NOT dating that girl.
the same girl i’d already told him he was free to be with.
and that sent me into an absolute spiral. why break no contact to lie about something i hadn’t even asked? why interfere with my healing just to maintain some false narrative?
i fell back into old habits. checking social media, piecing together timelines, looking for proof. i noticed he followed her sister. she started following the soccer team he coached. little connections that kept confirming what my gut already knew.
meanwhile, despite apparently moving on, he was still watching practically every single one of my facebook stories, often immediately. i’d blocked him elsewhere, but kept facebook open because i post stories for my family, including my grandmother. he was still watching as recently as two days ago.
i couldn’t understand why he needed to keep tabs on me while building a relationship with someone else. why lie about her? why reach out to me just to deny it? why continue inserting himself into my life?
and then, finally, she posted an instagram photo dump.
there he was, kissing her forehead.
one picture confirming everything i’d been driving myself insane trying to prove for months.
and the strangest thing happened. i didn’t fall apart.
of course it hurt. seeing someone you loved for seven years with the person they cheated on you with is never going to feel good. but underneath that hurt was this overwhelming sense of relief.
i was right.
i was right about the cheating, the lies, the girl, the denial, the final conversation, and the completely unnecessary message breaking no contact. i wasn’t imagining things. i wasn’t some obsessive, jealous ex who couldn’t accept the breakup. i was someone who had been lied to so consistently that i stopped trusting my own perception of reality.
and i think that’s what people don’t always understand. it wasn’t about wanting him back. i had literally wished them happiness. it was about someone continuing to manipulate my understanding of reality even after our relationship ended.
for months, i thought i needed him to admit the truth before i could move on. but he had every opportunity to be honest, even when there was nothing left to lose, and still chose to lie.
so i finally blocked him. everywhere. including facebook.
no more access to my life, no more watching my stories, no more checking whether he’s watching, no more searching for clues about a relationship that has nothing to do with me anymore.
i’m not pretending i’m suddenly healed. i’m still furious. there are moments when i want to call him and tell him what a horrible person he’s been. moments when i want to tell her everything. moments when i want him to experience even a fraction of the pain he caused me.
but i also know none of that will give me back the years i spent trying to love someone into becoming a better person.
he went from our seven-year relationship to cheating to another relationship, with seemingly always another woman somewhere in between. from what i’ve experienced, he’s never truly learned how to be alone. i spent years waiting for him to finish school, find direction, take accountability, and follow through on the promises he made about changing his life.
and now i genuinely don’t know what he’s doing, what he’s telling her, whether he’s changed, or whether he’ll repeat the same patterns. part of me believes he’ll always be running from himself, but i’m finally realizing that isn’t my problem to solve.
i don’t need him to be miserable for the rest of his life. i don’t need this relationship to fail to validate what happened to me. i don’t need her to discover the same things i did. and i don’t need an apology from someone who had countless opportunities to give me one.
i can still love the person i thought he was and acknowledge how horribly he treated me. i can miss seven years of my life without wanting that life back. i can be angry without letting that anger keep me attached to him.
for the longest time, i confused closure with confession. i thought if he would just admit everything, my brain could finally rest.
but he never did, and i finally got my answer anyway.
so this is my final conclusion. not because i’m magically over him or won’t have difficult days, but because i’m done making it my responsibility to understand him.
i know what happened. i know what i experienced. i know how much i loved him, how hard i tried, and how much of myself i lost in the process. i don’t need to keep proving it.
i’m 28. i have friends, family, a career, places i want to see, people i haven’t met yet, and an entire life ahead of me that deserves more attention than someone who couldn’t even give me an honest goodbye.
i know healing isn’t linear. tomorrow might hurt again. but today, i feel free.
and for the first time in seven years, i’m not waiting for him to do something. not to change, apologize, tell the truth, or come back.
i’m finally choosing myself, and i hope i never lose myself trying to love someone else again.
TLDR: after an almost seven year relationship, my ex cheated, repeatedly lied about the other woman, and even broke no contact months later just to insist he wasn’t dating her. i spent months questioning my reality and searching for proof while he continued watching my social media. she finally posted a picture confirming they’re together. instead of falling apart, i felt relief. i wasn’t crazy, i wasn’t imagining things, and i finally have the confirmation i needed. i’ve blocked him everywhere. i’m still angry and hurting, but for the first time, i feel like i’m actually letting go.
