Date: April 29, 2025

Author: Charlotte Ellis

I don’t even know where to start with this. I just need to get it out. It’s been a week since the breakup, and it feels like I’m in this weird in-between space—stuck somewhere between the hurt of the past and the uncertainty of what’s next. Maybe I’m just rambling to avoid sinking into a pit of self-loathing, but I have to write this down. I guess it’s a long rant, but it’s what’s been swirling around in my head, and maybe putting it out there will give me some clarity.

So, my ex (M27) and I (F23) broke up after being in a long-distance relationship for a while. I won’t go into too much detail, but communication was the issue, and that’s what broke us apart. If you’ve seen my other post on r/AITAH, you might already know some of what led to this. We used to live in the same city and even worked together, and everything was pretty good when we were in the same place. Sure, we had our occasional arguments—nothing that seemed big enough to end things over. We were just like any other couple—figuring things out, having fun, and living life.

The turning point for me, though, was when I had surgery a few months ago. I had no family nearby, and he stepped up in a way I wasn’t expecting. He moved in with me for about three months to be there for me—supporting me, taking care of me, just being a pillar during a really tough time. I thought we were solid. I thought that was it—that was the forever. I really believed he was the one.

But then the distance, the poor communication, the little cracks we’d ignored for too long, finally started to break us down. It wasn’t just the physical distance; it was the emotional one too. We stopped talking about what mattered, and before I knew it, we couldn’t even have a conversation without it turning into something uncomfortable.

I think the hardest part is accepting that it wasn’t me being overdramatic, and it wasn’t him being distant on purpose. We just… lost it. We lost the connection, and as much as I wanted to make it work, it felt like we were just holding on to the idea of being together rather than the reality of what we were.

I’ve spent the last week going back and forth between sadness, anger, and regret. I keep thinking about the time we spent together, all the memories, the good and the bad. And then there’s that horrible, crushing feeling of not being enough—not being the person he needed, not being the one to fix the issues we had. It’s so hard to look back and not want to blame myself. I wonder if I could have done more, if I should have tried harder to communicate better, if I could have changed the outcome somehow.

But then I remember that sometimes, it just isn’t meant to be. No matter how much we care for each other, sometimes people just grow in different directions, and that’s okay. That doesn’t make me a failure. It just means I’m human, and we’re both learning. We both tried, and that has to count for something.

I keep looking at my phone, wondering if I should reach out—if maybe he’s feeling the same way. But deep down, I know we’ve both moved on. At least, I hope he has. And as much as it hurts to admit, I have to move on too. I have to take this as a lesson—one of self-love, self-growth, and knowing that my worth isn’t tied to this relationship or any past relationship. I don’t need to carry the weight of “what if” around with me.

I don’t have all the answers yet, and I don’t know how to stop feeling like I’ve failed. But I do know I’m trying to heal, and that’s enough for now. If you’ve read this far, thanks for letting me vent. I don’t expect anyone to have the perfect answer, but sometimes just putting your thoughts out there makes things feel a little less heavy.

I’ll get through this. I have to. And maybe, just maybe, it’ll make me stronger.