Still Here

I’ll talk about the healing eventually.
The good things.
The growth.
The version of me I’m slowly becoming again.

But before any of that, I need to talk about what broke me.

I spent over 10 plus years in a relationship that slowly destroyed me from the inside out. And the worst part is… I didn’t even realize it while it was happening.

That’s what narcissistic relationships do to you.

They don’t destroy you all at once.
They do it slowly.
Quietly.
Strategically.

First, they make you feel loved in ways you’ve never experienced before.

And honestly?
That’s what made it so hard to leave.

The sex was incredible.
The chemistry felt unreal.
The flowers.
The gifts.
The homemade dinners.
The detailed birthday surprises.
The anniversary planning.
The way they remembered little things about you.
The way they could make you feel like the center of their universe.

It felt passionate.
Intense.
Addictive.

Like finally being loved deeply. The love you felt like you finally deserved of having. The one you dreamed of having.. yeah that one!

But real love doesn’t leave you emotionally bleeding every other week.

What I thought was love was really control disguised as affection.

Because eventually the same person who worshipped you begins resenting you.

Your success bothers them.
Your confidence bothers them.
Your happiness bothers them.
Your growth becomes threatening.

You start noticing they only feel comfortable when you’re doubting yourself.

And somehow they convince you that YOU are the problem. It was always me NEVER THEM!

I spent years apologizing for reactions to things that should’ve never happened to me in the first place.
Years questioning my own sanity.
Years crying until my chest physically hurt.
Years over explaining myself.
Years begging to be understood by someone who fully understood what they were doing.

I never knew anxiety before that relationship or what panic was.

Now I know what it feels like to shake while crying.
To replay conversations in your head for hours.
To walk on eggshells in your own relationship.
To feel physically sick before arguments.
To feel your nervous system constantly stuck in survival mode.

I know what it feels like to stare at yourself in the mirror and not recognize who you became. Oh how I miss her.

And the scary part?
The highs were so high that they made me excuse the many lows.

That’s the trap nobody talks about. The mind fuck!

Because after every breakdown came the fixing.
The apologies.
The affection.
The touching.
The tears.
The promises.
The “I can’t lose you.”
The version of them I fell in love with all over again.

They knew exactly what to say to pull me back every single time. EVERY FUCKING TIME!

And I kept staying because I was addicted to the hope of who they pretended to be in the beginning. The false narrative they portray.

Not realizing that version of them was never fully real.

People think leaving is the hardest part.

It isn’t.

The hardest part is leaving while still loving them.
Leaving while trauma bonded.
Leaving while your mind is so manipulated that you still wonder if maybe YOU were the problem. Yes, I believed him.
Leaving while grieving someone who is still alive.

That kind of pain changes you.

Even after I left, they still believed I’d come back.
Still tried to pull me back in with promises.
Words.
Dreams.
Future faking.
Gifts.
Hope.

But the truth is… nothing changes when someone enjoys having power over you.

And what hurts the most is realizing they watched you break down for years and still chose themselves every time. His eyes sparked when I’d cry.

I lost myself loving someone who was committed to keeping me emotionally confused & vulnerable.

And even now, there are moments where I look back and think:
“What if?”

Not because I truly want that life back…
but because trauma that deep rewires you.

Then reality hits me all over again.

I remember the crying.
The panic.
The exhaustion.
The loneliness while laying next to someone.
The feeling of never being fully safe emotionally.
The constant battle inside my own head.

And suddenly I remember:
I did what was best for me.

For the first time in years… I chose me.

And that was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.

Because when you’ve spent years abandoning yourself to keep someone else comfortable, choosing yourself feels wrong at first.

But losing myself was killing me faster than losing them ever could.

So no,
it was never just love.

By the end of it, I was a shell of myself.

I didn’t know who I was anymore outside of surviving that relationship.
I lost my identity trying to keep someone else comfortable.
I stopped recognizing my own mind, my own emotions, even my own reflection.

I forgot what I liked.
What made me happy.
What music I enjoyed.
What version of me existed before all the crying, anxiety, confusion, and emotional exhaustion.

Everything became about managing their moods, avoiding conflict, keeping peace, and holding together a relationship that was slowly destroying me.

I became so disconnected from myself that I didn’t even realize how broken I was until I finally left and had silence for the first time.

And that silence was terrifying…
because I had to meet myself again.

That’s the thing about surviving this kind of love —
it doesn’t just break your heart.
It breaks your identity.

You mourn yourself while still being alive.

But somehow…
through all the manipulation, the trauma, the anxiety, the years of feeling emotionally trapped, the crying, the confusion, the loneliness, the losing myself completely…

I’m still here.

Not fully healed.
Not fully rebuilt.
Not untouched by what happened.

But still here.

Still learning myself again.
Still trying.
Still surviving.
Still becoming.

And maybe that’s what this blog is really about.

Not perfection.
Not pretending I have all the answers.
Not romanticizing pain.

Just proof that after everything meant to destroy me…

Im still here.