I Had to Be Broken to Know Something Was Wrong
It’s been over 2,000 days since my last relationship.
2,000 days since someone decided I wasn’t “the one.”
That breakup didn’t just hurt—it shattered me. But it wasn’t just the end of a relationship. It was the beginning of something bigger: realising how deeply disconnected I was—from myself, my needs, and my worth.
These years haven’t just been about being single—they’ve been about unf*cking my idea of love and redefining what I truly desire.
The Breakup That Broke Me
It was our second date, and I already knew I didn’t like him.
I got the ick. My gut screamed, “This is not the one.” But I ignored it. I told myself I needed to make it work. Settle down. Be “normal.”
And so, I stayed. I swallowed my doubts and told myself to power through, even as my instincts screamed louder with every passing day.
Looking back, I can see how that mindset set the tone for the whole relationship. I didn’t feel worthy of something better, so I stayed in something mediocre. And unsurprisingly, it ended the same way my other relationships did: he left.
Seeking the Familiar
I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was chasing what felt familiar—not because it was good, but because it was all I’d ever known.
Growing up, love didn’t look like kindness or care. It felt complicated, weighed down by tension and unspoken expectations. Connection seemed less about mutual support and more about endurance. Affection was rare, and conflict often took centre stage, creating an atmosphere that didn’t feel safe or nurturing. Love, when it appeared, felt conditional—hard-earned and easily lost.
So, when I found myself in relationships that echoed that same heaviness, I told myself it was normal. Love, I thought, was something you had to tolerate, not something that filled you up.
But the more I reflected, the more I realised this version of love wasn’t mine. It was a hand-me-down, shaped by old wounds and unhealed parts of myself.
What would love look like if it felt safe, kind, and whole?
For a long time, I thought I needed a partner. Not someone to share life with, but someone to fix everything I couldn’t: the financial issues, the feelings of insecurity and instability, the gap in my ability to grow. Looking back, I wasn’t looking for a partner—I was looking for a parent.
But then, about three years ago, I shut down completely. I stopped chasing anything. I’ve been on just three dates in that time, none progressing past the first, and only because I forced myself to go. The thought of opening up again felt overwhelming, so I sought nothing at all. It was safer that way.
Now, I see this for what it is: a wall I built to protect myself, but one that’s keeping me stuck. Moving from seeking nothing to seeking meaningful connection is a challenge I’m only just beginning to tackle.
Piece by piece, I’ve started to ask myself: What do I truly want? What would love look like if it felt safe, kind, and whole?
The answer hasn’t come overnight, but here’s what I know so far:
Someone with kind eyes and a kind smile.
A presence that feels warm, not cold - someone who makes me feel like I’ve come home.
A partner who is emotionally available and open - I realise it’s more in what they communicate about their own feelings, not them listening to me that will indicate this quality.
A connection built on mutual respect and empathy.
For the first time, I’m trying to seek connection—not out of need or familiarity, but because it feels like the right thing to let into my life.
Where I’m At Now
Over 2,000 days later, my love life isn’t unf*cked—yet.
But these years have been transformative. I moved to a country where I don’t speak the language. I stayed through a global pandemic, which pushed me to become more reclusive than ever. Before that, I couldn’t stand being alone. My sister used to describe me as “someone who gets lonely brushing their teeth.” The idea of being by myself, even for a minute, felt unbearable. But now, I’ve had to learn—sometimes the hard way—how to enjoy and embrace my own company. And even though it’s still a bit challenging at times, I’ve come a long way.
I buried myself in a demanding job for five years, convincing myself I didn’t need anyone. Along the way, I recovered from surgeries, built a (sometimes overwhelming) travel schedule, and became a yoga and boxing fanatic. Through it all, I’ve learned that healing isn’t about rushing to find someone new. It’s about becoming someone who truly knows what they want—and having the courage to ask for it.
Still, my biggest challenge now is finding ease and openness in person. Around romantic interests, I freeze. My body stiffens, my mind races, and I feel an overwhelming sense of danger—a fight-or-flight response to what should feel exciting or hopeful.
I’m learning to work through this: to integrate my past, to ground myself, to create a sense of safety within. Knowing what I want and envisioning the kind of love I deserve is helping guide me toward a place of openness and calm, where I can let that love in.
Closing Reflection
This is just part one of my journey. Unf*cking love is messy, painful, and deeply personal—but it’s also worth it.
What about you? Have you experienced anything similar or got great advice? Have you had breakups that changed you? Patterns you’ve had to break to discover what you truly need? Drop a comment below and share your story—I’d love to hear it.