Healing is a weird process.

So many times — as you’ll have seen in some of my previous posts — I feel like I’m improving. I’ll have a good day, maybe even a few strung together. I get up, crack on with the day, see friends, socialise. And then suddenly, something hits — a thought, a memory, a silence — and I feel like I’m right back at the beginning.

There are days I move from bed to sofa and that’s it. I’m paralysed with anxiety. Heart racing, thoughts spinning, completely stuck. I literally cannot move.

I feel like my heart has broken more than once during this breakup. Not just the initial split — but the way it played out. The betrayal. The lies. The realisation that the person I trusted more than anyone just… became someone else. Or maybe she always was, and I just didn’t want to see it.

The worst part is not knowing why. Not really. I’ve thought about writing to her — again — asking for answers. But she’s already lied. I’ve already asked. I’ve been shot down so many times. Even if she did respond, how could I ever believe it was the truth?

It’s weird. You can know someone for years, be friends, build a life, go through absolute hell together… and still, somehow, end up a stranger to them. Shut out. Deleted. Replaced.

I could keep going over the betrayal. I could list my own faults again too — and yeah, I’ve got them. I’ve owned them. But I know in my heart that none of it deserved this. Not the cheating. Not the lies. Not the way she turned me into the villain to justify her actions. Deep down, I think even she knows that.

And here’s the hardest part to admit: despite everything, I’d still forgive her. I’d still take her back. I hate that. It feels ridiculous. Weak. Pathetic, even. But it’s the truth. Because I loved her more than I’ve ever loved anyone. And because I’m still stuck in this. Still trying to find a version of reality where this all makes some kind of sense.

But she couldn’t forgive me. She couldn’t give me a chance. So, why should she deserve my forgiveness?

Maybe that doesn’t make me weak. Maybe it makes me loyal. Maybe it makes me human.

I stayed. I stuck around when things got hard. I didn’t run. I didn’t lie. I showed up, even when I was struggling. She didn’t. She vented to someone else. She hid behind WhatsApp messages. She smiled through it, lied through it, and walked away while I was still trying to hold things together.

She said she loved me. She said she wasn’t capable of this kind of betrayal. But she did it anyway. So how do I ever believe anything she said again?

I’ll never get the full truth. And if I did… how would I even know?

This post didn’t go where I thought it would. But maybe it went where it needed to. Maybe that’s what healing looks like. Not some neat, upward slope. But a jagged mess. A bleeding, aching, burning process that doesn’t follow a pattern.

This is the most hurt I’ve ever felt. And I don’t think I’ll be done with it any time soon. Because when you love someone that deeply — when you think they knew you better than you knew yourself — and they still throw it all away… how do you just switch that off?

I can’t. Not yet. Maybe not for a while. But I’ll keep writing through it.