u/DapperDebt3119

This is completely off the topic of what I’ve been posting lately, but I need to say it somewhere.

I have never felt deeply about someone the way I do now. And honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever truly been in love before, so I can’t sit here and pretend I know exactly what that feels like. But I do know what it feels like to care deeply for someone. To respect someone. To feel safe enough to open parts of yourself you kept hidden for years.

We’re both in two different places in life right now. He’s been divorced for two years. I’ve been divorced for four. We’re both still healing in our own ways, and sometimes caring about someone also means being honest enough to admit it’s not the right time.

But this man taught me so much without even realizing it.

He showed me what I do want in a relationship. What I will have one day. Patience. Respect. Honesty. Peace. Safety. Real connection.

And because of that, I will never settle again.

I have so much respect for him because instead of being selfish and keeping me around just because he could, he cared enough to be real with me. And oddly enough, that made me care even more.

Whoever gets his whole heart one day is going to be a very, very lucky woman.

And what’s crazy is… I’m not hurt. I’m grateful.

Grateful that someone came into my life and reminded me that I’m still capable of feeling deeply after everything I’ve been through.

I’ve been celibate for about a year and a half. There was never anything physical between us. No sex. Nothing sexual at all. So I know without a doubt that what I felt had nothing to do with lust or loneliness. It was genuine emotion. Real connection. Real care.

And honestly, that means more to me than anything.

He taught me what peace feels like. What patience feels like. What respect feels like. He showed me the kind of connection I will never settle beneath again.

So I guess the moral of the story is this:

Even while healing, there is still light.

We are still capable of feeling things other than pain.

We are still capable of connection.

And love — or whatever beautiful thing this was — can still find us in the middle of recovery.

And maybe that was the lesson I needed all along.

Not everyone comes into your life to hurt you.

Some people come into your life to remind you that your heart still works.

And the best part is, now I know I’m capable of feeling that way again.

And one day, I will.

One thing I’m realizing is that toxic relationships don’t just damage your ability to trust other people.They damage your ability to trust yourself, Your instincts,

Your judgment, Your feelings, Your decisions. After enough manipulation, confusion, blame shifting, and emotional exhaustion, you start second guessing everything even things you know are true. I think that’s part of why leaving isn’t always the hardest part. Sometimes the hardest part is learning how to hear your own voice again after spending years being taught not to trust it.

At some point, though, I have to take accountability too.

I can sit here and talk about the fear, the confusion, the trauma bond, the history, and everything that led up to this — and all of that may be true — but I also have to be honest with myself.

The reason this cycle keeps continuing is because I have not fully stopped it.

That is the accountability I have to take.

Not because I deserve to be followed, manipulated, or made to feel unsafe. Not because someone else’s actions are my responsibility. But because at some point, I have to recognize that continuing to allow access, continuing to respond, continuing to let the cycle restart over and over again has kept me stuck in it too.

That truth is hard to admit out loud.

I think part of me became so used to surviving it that I stopped believing I could fully walk away from it. And maybe that’s what I need to figure out now — how to finally choose peace even when guilt, fear, history, children, and emotions make it complicated.

Because I don’t want this to be my life forever.

May 16, 2026 – 12:11 a.m.

I have been divorced for four years now.

Tonight, I went to a friend’s house to pick up a hat I had left there. While I was there, my ex-husband called my friend and said he was on his way over. Like I always do when this happens, I immediately left.

I tried to go somewhere else afterward, but I had to completely go out of my way to avoid him. I drove about twenty minutes out of my way into the country trying to get where I was going safely, and during that drive, he was following me.

He called multiple times while following me. Every time I would turn around or change direction, I would see him turning around and going the same way.

When I finally got home, I stayed sitting inside my locked car because I did not feel comfortable. He walked up acting as if nothing had happened, like he had done nothing wrong at all.

I told him, “Please leave me the fuck alone. Leave me the fuck alone.”

He responded by saying, “Why are you acting like that towards me? What did I do to you?”

As I’m writing this, he is somewhere outside in the yard. I do not know exactly where he is, but he is still out there somewhere.

May 16, 2026 – 12:11 a.m.

I have been divorced for four years now.

Tonight, I went to a friend’s house to pick up a hat I had left there. While I was there, my ex-husband called my friend and said he was on his way over. Like I always do when this happens, I immediately left.

I tried to go somewhere else afterward, but I had to completely go out of my way to avoid him. I drove about twenty minutes out of my way into the country trying to get where I was going safely, and during that drive, he was following me.

He called multiple times while following me. Every time I would turn around or change direction, I would see him turning around and going the same way.

When I finally got home, I stayed sitting inside my locked car because I did not feel comfortable. He walked up acting as if nothing had happened, like he had done nothing wrong at all.

I told him, “Please leave me the fuck alone. Leave me the fuck alone.”

He responded by saying, “Why are you acting like that towards me? What did I do to you?”

As I’m writing this, he is somewhere outside in the yard. I do not know exactly where he is, but he is still out there somewhere.

Not everyone is a narcissist. Just because someone shows a few narcissistic traits does not mean they are one, and people throw that word around far too casually without understanding what it actually looks like over time.

I lived with it for 18 years.

Nothing I did was ever right. I was constantly criticized, belittled, blamed, and made to feel like I was never enough. Meanwhile, he could do whatever he wanted, and I was expected to accept it, stay quiet, and keep the peace.

One of the hardest parts was how he controlled the narrative. He would go to family, friends, even our kids, acting innocent and concerned while leaving out everything that led up to my reactions. He made me look unstable while presenting himself as the calm, caring one. Over time, it made me question my own reality.

I tried to leave multiple times. People always ask why someone stays, but they do not understand what it is like living under constant fear, manipulation, stalking, and invasion of privacy. It felt impossible to escape. No matter where I went, something would happen that reminded me he was still there, still watching, still finding ways into my life. I started constantly looking over my shoulder and sleeping with one eye open.

And the truth is, I let him back into my life. I trusted him again, and now I see that he came back with an agenda. His goal was not to rebuild anything. His goal was to destroy me, and in many ways, he did. Mentally, emotionally, financially, and psychologically, I feel like he broke me down piece by piece.

Now I am trying to rebuild my life from the ground up while carrying the weight of everything that happened. Somehow, in his mind, all of this became my fault. The loss of our family, the damage, the separation — he made me carry the blame for all of it. That became his revenge.

The stress and mental exhaustion changed me. My memory is not what it used to be anymore. There are large pieces of my life I barely remember because I spent so many years surviving instead of living.

The only reason I finally got out was because he discarded me first. Even now, it still does not fully feel over. He still finds ways to reappear in my life, and the damage from all of it stays with me every single day.

People who have never lived through this often do not understand the long-term psychological impact it leaves behind. It is not just arguments or a bad relationship. It changes the way you think, trust, remember, and move through the world.