u/Yuzuro_

Need an outside perspective kasi baka ako lang talaga yung nag-ooverthink.

I was talking to someone who became really important to me. We got close, but things eventually became complicated because of misunderstandings and my own insecurities. I tried explaining to him several times na important siya sa akin, but at some point, he pushed me away and decided that he wanted distance.

I respected it. I deleted our conversation and stopped trying to convince him.

He eventually blocked me on one messaging app. It’s been 4 days now. Pero I noticed na I’m still not blocked on Messenger, Instagram, or even on my number.

I know there could be a million practical reasons for that. Maybe he simply doesn’t care enough to block me everywhere, maybe he forgot, or maybe those platforms just aren’t relevant to him.

But I’m overthinking because before everything ended, he kept questioning whether he was really important to me. He even said that if I could eventually move on and be okay without him, then maybe he wasn’t that important after all.

So now I’m wondering if I’m just giving meaning to something that probably means nothing.

OA lang ba ako for wondering why someone would block me on one platform but leave other ways of contacting me completely open? Or is it possible that even when someone wants distance, they’re not necessarily ready to completely cut you off?

I’m not planning to message him or bypass the block. I just want an outside perspective because I know I’m probably too emotionally involved to interpret this objectively.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about regrets.

The eight-year relationship I thought would be forever. The life I thought I already had figured out. Losing both my parents within six years and learning how to make decisions without them. Giving too much of myself to work until I forgot that I was already exhausted.

Then came the diagnosis of Persistent Depressive Disorder, and suddenly, some of the things I blamed myself for had a name.

I also realized how much being hurt changed me. I’ve been lied to, disappointed, and left enough times that I don’t know anymore if I’m being careful or if I’ve simply forgotten how to trust.

There were moments when I didn’t know where my life was going. Moments when I tried to end it because I couldn’t see a way forward.

*And honestly, there are still days when I ask myself:*
*What if I had chosen differently?*
*What if I left sooner?*
*What if I trusted myself more?*
*What if I hadn’t wasted so much time?*

But maybe regret is unfair.

Because I’m judging the old me with everything I know now.

The girl who stayed was loving.
The daughter who kept going was grieving.
The employee who kept pushing was exhausted.
And the girl who almost didn’t make it wasn’t weak.
She was tired.

So maybe I don’t need to hate the years I lost.
Maybe I just need to accept that some chapters ended before I was ready.

At 27, I’m starting over with grief, lessons, scars, and a heart that’s still learning how to trust.
I don’t know exactly where my life is going.

But I’m still here.

And maybe starting over doesn’t mean I failed.
Maybe it means I finally get to build a life that is mine.

No perfect ending. No grand realization. Just me, choosing to stay long enough to see what happens next.

I used to think my career was already figured out.

I was in HR. For years, I worked in Compensation and Benefits, handling government-mandated benefits, payroll-related concerns, employee records, timekeeping, compliance, audits, and everything in between.

I became the person people went to when something was wrong with their SSS, Pag-IBIG, PhilHealth, payroll, DTR, benefits, or employment documents.

And honestly, I was good at it.
Maybe too good at it.
Because eventually, I found myself carrying more and more responsibilities. Multiple entities. Deadlines. Compliance. Audits. Employee concerns. Paperwork. Problems that needed to be solved immediately.

There were times when I felt like I was doing the work of several people.
And because I knew how difficult it was to replace someone in HR, resigning felt almost like abandoning everyone.

I stayed longer than I should have.
Until eventually, something in me broke.
It wasn’t just burnout anymore. I started associating HR with anxiety, pressure, guilt, and fear. Even things that used to feel normal—emails, documents, deadlines, turnover, compliance concerns—started triggering something in me.

I realized I wasn’t just tired of my job.
I was traumatized by the career I had spent years building.

And that was probably the hardest part.
Because what do you do when the career you’ve worked so hard to build is also the career you no longer want?

For the longest time, I thought the logical thing was to find another HR job. Same skills. Same experience. Same career path.
But I couldn’t.

So I made a decision that scared me.
I chose a job that has nothing to do with HR.
No employee relations.
No SSS and Pag-IBIG concerns.
No payroll.
No DTR.
No government compliance.
No being the person everyone runs to when something goes wrong.
I’m starting over.

And at 27, there’s something strangely humbling about that.

I used to be so focused on building a career that made sense on paper.

Now, I’m trying to build a life that makes sense for me.

I don’t know yet if this new path will be permanent. Maybe I’ll eventually find my way back to HR. Maybe I won’t.

But for now, I think I need to experience being something other than “the HR person.”
I need to remember that my worth isn’t tied to how many problems I can solve, how many employees I can help, how many deadlines I can meet, or how much work I can survive.
Maybe changing careers isn’t failure.
Maybe sometimes, walking away from something you’ve spent years building is actually an act of choosing yourself.

So here I am.
Starting again.
Not because I couldn’t make it in HR.
But because I finally realized that I don’t have to keep proving that I can survive something just because I’ve survived it before.

Has anyone else completely changed careers after burnout or a toxic experience?
How did you know it was time to let go of the career you thought you’d have?

Lately, I’ve been thinking about regrets.

The eight-year relationship I thought would be forever. The life I thought I already had figured out. Losing both my parents within six years and learning how to make decisions without them. Giving too much of myself to work until I forgot that I was already exhausted.

Then came the diagnosis of Persistent Depressive Disorder, and suddenly, some of the things I blamed myself for had a name.

I also realized how much being hurt changed me. I’ve been lied to, disappointed, and left enough times that I don’t know anymore if I’m being careful or if I’ve simply forgotten how to trust.

There were moments when I didn’t know where my life was going. Moments when I tried to end it because I couldn’t see a way forward.

And honestly, there are still days when I ask myself:
What if I had chosen differently?
What if I left sooner?
What if I trusted myself more?
What if I hadn’t wasted so much time?

But maybe regret is unfair.

Because I’m judging the old me with everything I know now.

The girl who stayed was loving.
The daughter who kept going was grieving.
The employee who kept pushing was exhausted.
And the girl who almost didn’t make it wasn’t weak.
She was tired.

So maybe I don’t need to hate the years I lost.
Maybe I just need to accept that some chapters ended before I was ready.

At 27, I’m starting over with grief, lessons, scars, and a heart that’s still learning how to trust.
I don’t know exactly where my life is going.

But I’m still here.

And maybe starting over doesn’t mean I failed.
Maybe it means I finally get to build a life that is mine.

No perfect ending. No grand realization. Just me, choosing to stay long enough to see what happens next.

I’m talking to someone who has become really important to me. We’re not officially together, but we’ve built a connection and I’ve become emotionally invested in him.

We recently had a misunderstanding. I got insecure and said things out of fear, and I admit some of my words hurt him. I apologized and told him that I care about him and don’t want to lose him.

But during the conversation, he told me that maybe he should find someone else na someone who can give him the kind of care he needs. He also said he needs to choose himself because he feels that he keeps getting hurt whenever my insecurities come out.

What confuses me is that he still clearly cares about me, even after saying that. He still checks on me and shows concern.

So my question is:
If a guy genuinely cares about a woman, when he says “I’ll find someone else,” does he actually mean he wants someone else or is it sometimes something you say when you’re hurt, exhausted, and trying to let go?

I’m not asking whether I should chase him. I just genuinely want to understand what that statement usually means from a guy’s perspective.