When a relationship ends in heartbreak, we spend a great deal of time reflecting on all the ways we feel abandoned, used, betrayed — you name it. But the first betrayal usually happened long before the separation, and we ourselves are often the culprits.
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Contending with the long list of ways I betrayed myself — like ignoring my intuitive knowing, my needs, my expectations — from the very beginning of my last relationship is the final boss in this current stage of my “healing.” This level is the hardest for a reason; it requires complete honesty and accountability, both essential yet deeply uncomfortable. How did I spend six years with someone, agree to marry them, and never make it down the aisle? When I strip away all other factors, I narrow it down to a consistent betrayal of the self.
My ex and I met shortly after the end of an eight-year relationship that ran its course (from age 18 to 26). As you can imagine, I grew up and grew differently during that time. I was supposed to explore my freedom, discover a new version of myself, and figure out what my life could be as a single twenty-something. And for a short while, I did. But a few months into casually dating my ex, that non-committal journey I was on no longer suited him. And there came betrayal number one: agreeing to commit when I knew I wasn’t ready.
He wore me down, showed himself valuable, and went above and beyond to prove himself to be the right partner for me. I struggled to meet him where he was for a while but ultimately felt as though I owed him what he offered me — effort. I don’t blame him for expressing his needs in the beginning but, looking back, I see how that initial dishonor of what I needed became a trend throughout our relationship. He also did the same, I believe, by negotiating with himself and going back on decisions he made about our relationship. We negotiated ourselves into an engagement four years after entering each others’ orbits while living long distance; he stayed in Atlanta while I got my master’s in New York.
I figured if we could sustain a relationship miles apart for two years, we could weather anything as we prepared for marriage. But the camel’s back broke when I moved back to Atlanta after graduation and we lived together for the first time. By then, my attachment to him — the life we were building, the dreams we believed in, the child we would raise, all of the things — was too strong to consider walking away. I resigned myself to suffering through the misery I felt sharing a space with him.
I told myself we’d figure it out, that it’s what marriage often is… suffering and compromise. Then the reckoning came. We agreed to part ways, and I was on board — at first. But reality set in and my attachment sent me into a panic. “Maybe we didn’t try hard enough,” “If only he would change,” and “I was too hard on him” are just a few of the thoughts that paralyzed me for weeks after he moved out. There was no going back this time, however.
He stuck to our decision, and I started crafting a life without him. Without tripping over his shoes, locking the door behind him, asking him to iron his clothes, all the annoyances that induced rage inside of me. But also encountered the moments I loved. The random forehead kisses, couch cuddling, swapping memes, and family time with the cats.
It all hurt like hell. There were days where all I could do was cry and remember. Days I didn’t eat, or leave the house; I barely drank water. Brief moments when I wanted to fall asleep and not wake up until I was over him. Thankfully, I wasn’t suicidal and my support system rallied around me like never before. But there I was — 32 years old with a ring that held memories, and an apartment occupied only by my cat and myself. It was bleak but not for as long as I thought, because I was hell bent on “winning” the breakup.
First, I started therapy with a fellow Jamaican woman who changed my life. She let me speak and cry freely, all while bonding over our shared cultural identities. In our first session, she recommended a book I now swear by, “The 5 AM Club” by Robin Sharma. She didn’t guide me toward a path of religion or relationship gurus. Instead, she encouraged me to prioritize myself, and how I spend my days and delve deep into how I wanted to show up in the world. For months, I lived, ate, and breathed this book — refining my daily routine into one that challenged and excited me. My body looked great, I changed jobs, my confidence increased, my dating life became fun, and I embarked on a sexual renaissance that continues to this day. Life became all about me, and the experiences I wanted in every area.
For a while, I recorded Heartbreak Talks to capture how I was coping in particular moments. Some are filled with gut-wrenching cries and descriptions that make my eyes flood even now. I cherish those recordings, though, for the raw vulnerability they hold. Throughout my singledom, I have allowed myself to feel freely, even feelings of indifference. However they take form, my only aim is to be in tune with my emotional nature to break patterns that betray who I am.
This month will mark one year since I’ve been single, the longest I’ve ever gone without a partner. I am in no way completely healed but I am happy with my choices. This time alone forced me to review not just my last relationship, but all of them. The common theme, I’ve found, is an unhealthy anxious-avoidant attachment style that led me to stay in pairings that wrecked me or ones where I ravaged the other person’s heart. If they liked me more than I did them, I showed up as an avoidant. If I felt deeply for them, I became an anxious mess — drawing on whichever style is most necessary in the moment. In the end, I can finally admit that true love doesn’t hurt the way attachments do. When the spiraling that followed my breakup cleared, I realized a harsh truth: I was never truly in love with my ex; I was attached to him and the idea of our relationship (see my TikTok post about this here).
Unlearning unhealthy or toxic attachments is an ongoing process, but I’ve accumulated some helpful resources along the way. If you are post-breakup, trauma-healing, or simply in transition, these items may be as helpful to you as they were/are to me.
Books
The 5 AM Club by Robin Sharma
Anxiously Attached by Jessica Baum (still reading, but I recommend based on what I’ve read thus far)
“Good Dirt” by Charmaine Wilkerson (a fiction read that somehow helped me understand myself and my ex a bit more. I review this book on TikTok, Goodreads, and Fable.)
Playlists
Manifestation Subliminals
Heartbreak Playlist
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