u/SkipMeFlipMe88

I wonder if this happens to anyone else.

Some key accounts that write these beautiful things .. I’m talking like the ones that get lots of traction and attention and write these amazing beautiful letters and poignant and - write things that matter. That hit you in the heart.

They write me. And then- boom. Delete.

The first time this happened that I recall- because it shocked me. I was actually sad about it.

Because this person wrote the most beautiful love letters.. and had the hundreds of likes and they wrote me and offered to be an ear and listen and we had had a little bit of dialogue and shared some history about ourselves and they said I’m always here for you.

And I thank them because I fucking believed them. I was actually .. thinking .. maybe we could write each other - and I never think that. Ever. I never write anyone. I never want to. But they seemed so nice and so.. non threatening and -

And then?

Instant delete.

AND then again- today. Another profile who is idk- one of those stand out ones that write things and hit you and they write me. And again- they get tons of likes and traction here -people are super into them and they are writing beautiful things and -

I write one sentence back-

And deleted. The entire profile gone. Instantly.

Does this happen to anyone?

Why does this keep happening to me?

I am starting to take it personal.

What is that about ? why ?

Why would you delete your entire profile that’s doing so good here and so popular and all your beautiful letters and poems-

I don’t understand .

Yeah I’ve deleted stuff but it’s not anywhere near the caliber of talent these people had.

I just don’t get it.

Tell me this happens to everyone and it’s a regular occurrence because I don’t want to take it personal. I need someone to help me understand why people would do that.

i guess maybe they were talking to someone else and .. maybe it happened because of them? Idk.

But I wish they wouldn’t do that. I’m upset because I liked those accounts. I liked reading their letters and poems and if you’re out there-

I am mad at you. Just so you know, absolutely without a doubt - I am sad you’re gone.

I see people talk a lot about having an “abandonment wound,” but the response to abandonment is usually described as becoming anxious, hypervigilant, codependent, reassurance-seeking, or afraid that people will leave.

My experience was the polar opposite.

My father was my best friend and the most secure relationship in my life. From the time I was little, he was my rock. Talking to him made me feel settled, stronger, and safe. I absolutely adored him, and he was an exceptional man and father.

Then, when I was a young adult, he essentially disowned me over my life choices, coinciding with his remarriage.

It was so completely out of character that it shocked almost everyone who knew him. Some of his oldest friends were so disappointed in him regarding this, they ended their relationships with him.

For me, it was devastating.

I wasn’t simply grieving the loss of a relationship.

It felt like losing something I had unconsciously thought of as permanent: my father, my safety, part of my identity, and the person I had always believed would be there. I never could have imagined him leaving my life.

It took years to really understand what that did to me. I didn’t even think of an “abandonment wound” for me, till recently. I just thought it was a choice my dad made. I blamed myself largely.

I didn’t respond by becoming more afraid of abandonment or trying harder to keep people from leaving.

I went the other direction.

I learned to detach.

Instead of thinking, Please don’t leave me, I think I went with- I will never build my emotional foundation on another person’s presence again. I will never have that kind of faith or trust in another human again.

A psychiatrist once commented that I was unusually anti-dependent emotionally- the opposite of codependent. I can love people very deeply, but somewhere along the way I became extremely reluctant to depend on them. And never fully trust them- which I think is healthy.

So I’m curious:

Why can the same basic injury-being abandoned by someone you were profoundly attached to, produce seemingly opposite adaptations?

Why does one person respond by holding on more tightly, while another responds by learning not to hold on at all?

Does it depend primarily on the age when the abandonment occurs? Temperament? How secure you were beforehand? The circumstances of the abandonment? Or something else?

I was inspired by a post earlier about someone feeling they had been manipulated because of their “big heart.”

I’ve always had a strong reaction to the idea of being a victim in general, so I started wondering how other people define manipulation.

To me, manipulation requires intent. It’s someone being dishonest or deceptive to get something they want. Without that intention, I don’t usually think of it as manipulation.

Ironically, I’ve always been more concerned about manipulating other people than being manipulated myself. When I was 17, a mentor pointed out that I was sometimes benefiting from people’s feelings toward me, even if I wasn’t doing it consciously. He told me that my intentions didn’t necessarily erase the effect. That conversation stuck with me.

Since then, I’ve become very deliberate about how I ask for things and how I communicate. I try not to use guilt, obligation, or emotional leverage to get what I want. Interestingly, I’ve found that some people interpret that directness as being rude or uncaring because I don’t spend much time appealing to their ego before asking a favor.

As for being manipulated myself, I honestly don’t relate to that very much. Part of the reason may be that I’ve never had much trouble setting boundaries or standing up for principles I care about. I also genuinely enjoy helping people, so when I choose to help, it doesn’t feel like I’m being taken advantage of—I was going to do it because I wanted to.

That said, as I’ve gotten older, I’ve become much more selective about where I invest my time and energy. I no longer feel obligated to keep helping people who are consistently disrespectful, emotionally unavailable, unwilling to reciprocate, or simply refuse to do their share. Especially in work environments, I’m happy to help people who are trying. I have very little interest in carrying people who are chronically lazy or unwilling to contribute.

So I’m curious:

Do you feel you’ve been manipulated or taken advantage of because of your “big heart”? Why or why not?

Or do you think, like me, that having strong boundaries and making conscious choices changes the equation?

I have two questions for you.

1. I’m wondering - what makes you finally give up on people? I mean your personal triggers - that once pushed , make you release the relationship
2. Since we are an older crowd, I’m assuming we have learned a few lessons by now. I am curious - if you truly could pick what you needed in a relationship - what would it be?

Maybe I’m asking what types of qualities /needs do you prioritize in a partner AND would overlook or excuse for those needs to be met? Which ones are you willing to compromise on to have your basic needs met?

What qualities would you forgo loving someone for or being loved for - Would you rather be loved or to love? Why?

which one would you honestly pick and why? Which do you need more and why?

Yeah… hi.

Sorry I haven’t reached out.

I don’t want to call because I’ll cry,

and I know you hate that.

Honestly, I’d hate it too.

To have you shut down again. I don’t like that.

I don’t need another humiliating memory.

I’m not mad.

No…

Not mad at all.

I’m just… profoundly fucked up.

Not in a dramatic sense.

Just in the clinical, subjective, objective

sort of way.

Something in me broke I suppose

and I don’t think I appreciated how heavy that particular experience with you was.

If I could call you, I’d probably only say one thing:

You cannot handle my heart.

No one should be loved this much.

Or maybe that’s unfair.

Maybe you could. If I was someone else.

Maybe you just don’t want to.

Either way, the outcome is the same for me.

I know this.

I know you well enough to know that if I ever became completely honest with you- if I ever opened the whole thing and let you look inside- you’d recoil in disgust.

Ok- Not screaming disgust.

Like black metal disgust maybe.

You’re too polite for that.

But I think you would become completely horrified by my utter absence of dignity.

Or .. romantic manners.

And the worst part is…

I would totally understand. I hate it too.

I wish I could find some happy medium. A nice shade of gray. I could mix one maybe.

Stop being so .. me.

Maybe this will sound arrogant.

I don’t think it is. It is just reality about me.

I just think I’ve collected enough data now.

Enough to build the pattern.

That’s what I do.

I predict.

Usually frighteningly well. ( I’m sorry, it’s true.)

I’m almost never surprised by other people.

I’m never surprised by myself.

That is also, the mistake I made.

I accounted for every possible variable except the one where losing you would fucking break me like a little girl’s pinky finger in a truck door.

That one escaped me.

Humiliating, really. All of it.

Part of me thinks you feel guilty.

That’s why you reached out.

The duty bound friend check-

Actually…

I’m fairly certain you do.

And that’s exactly what it was.

I know you well enough to recognize it.

I have wished I was stupider lately, a lot.

But you shouldn’t feel guilty.

You didn’t do anything to me. You didn’t lie to me. You didn’t try to impress me. You didn’t mislead me.

You didn’t steal anything.

I handed everything over voluntarily. While simultaneously holding most of me back. ( that sucked by the way, I do not recommend that.)

Every last ugly piece. I gave you.

Knowing exactly what I was doing.

Or…

Thinking I did.

I’d do it again tonight without hesitation.

That’s the embarrassing part.

I don’t regret any of it- even though I should.

If I was rational, if I was thinking more , probably one day I will die in shame remembering it all.

I cannot yet regret loving you.

I have no shame in that.

I have no remorse.

I have no anger.

I mean-

It’s my truth.

So.. I think I’m incapable of all of that.

What I do regret right now-

I regret -

wildly overestimating my own ability to survive your absense.

I thought I was stronger than this.

I usually am. I am.

Turns out…

In this one particular way-

I’m not. Yeah.

I thought I had prepared for every ending.

I rehearsed them.

Argued with them. Agreed with them. Accepted them.

As I was sitting next to you- I was saying in my head-

“She will be gone tonight.”

Little mantras to remind me. Over and over again.

I truly made peace with them before they ever happened.

I just couldn’t imagine the actual depth of your absence. How deep that would go.

Pain is strange that way.

It’s like calculus.

Or history.

Or a college degree.

You have absolutely no concept of how much exists that you don’t know, until you’re standing underneath the whole impossible thing wondering how no one warned you while marveling at how you survived being that ignorant your entire life and how stupid you probably are in this exact moment too because all of the sudden- you understand how much more there is to learn and know.

So…

For the sake of complete honesty, and what the fuck do I have to lose?

Absolutely nothing at this point. Nada.

I mean, why preserve my dignity?

Do I even have any left to .. keep?

No.

Although I guess I am because I refuse to tell you all of this. It’s not like you can help me.

And I haven’t the capacity for more pain right now.

I am maxed out and trying to sort through this and keep moving: I just can’t handle more.

Or I don’t want to. Not right now.

I’ve been totally devastated.

absolutely, completely, devastated.

There’s something perversely ironic about that.

Maybe deserved.

Maybe karmic.

Maybe just life or the big Santa in the sky finally deciding I’d gotten a little too spoiled.

I don’t know.

What I do know -

is that I don’t tolerate being away from you very well.

That sounds understated.

It is.

When the plane landed…

I remember thinking,

I don’t want this,

Not because I wanted to die.

Because I didn’t want this version of life.

Away from you.

Every mile the plane carried me away from you felt like the rack.

Not stretching my body to be drawn and

quartered,

Stretching whatever invisible thing keeps a person happily in denial about how bad life sucks.

Honestly, it was a little like if someone reached into my chest with a soup spoon, digging out my heart and tossed it into your lap.

As you’re whistling down the freeway..

*plop*.

I can imagine you looking down at my beaten and bleeding mess and saying -

“Ewww, yuck! What the fuck is that hideous monstrosity that’s just been spit at me from the clouds? Gross, God. I hate you.”

And the window rolls down and out the window it goes.

My heart is probably spread across the 405 from Costa Mesa to Mexico.

Like a thin layer of jam.

Forever splattered with my coffee I always spill.

Meanwhile,

I am expected to continue to exist.

Life is surprisingly demanding that way.

I won’t go into anything else and give myself away more.

But - nothing is good.

So what do I want to say…

Don’t worry.

I’m not fine.

You did nothing wrong.

I always love you.

And

I’m trying.

Please don’t feel bad.

Love,

Me.