I Lost My Head — And Found My Truth

By MissT

About my blog

I saw something I wish I hadn’t.

Just a quiet little comment on a swap group. A breadcrumb, really. A few place names strung together — but behind them, a bomb went off in my chest.He’s moving.The man I once bent my soul around. The man I tried to love back to life. The one who told me I was everything — until I wasn’t. The one who vanished and reappeared more times than my heart had strength for. He’s moving. And possibly closer to her — the woman I was always told not to worry about.And something in me snapped.All the pain I’d tucked neatly into drawers came spilling out.I cried. I panicked. I paced. I nearly drove myself mad with it.I went to his house.I didn’t tell him I was coming. I just… needed to know.He wasn’t in.He didn’t reply.And somewhere in that silence, my sense came back.I sat in my car thinking, What am I doing? Who am I becoming?And the answer was clear: I was becoming a woman who still loves him…But not enough to lose herself again.That’s the part people don’t talk about.That even when you’ve filed for divorce, even when you’ve moved on in theory — your heart doesn’t always get the memo.It clings. It hopes. It drags its feet.And then, something breaks — and weirdly, that’s when clarity creeps in.Yes, I lost my head.But I also found my limit.I can’t go back.Because loving him — even now — won’t change who he is.And seeing him move on doesn’t erase how much I gave. How much I tried.I wasn’t perfect. But I was present. Loyal. Real.And one day — maybe not now — I hope he realises what he had in me.But by then?I’ll be somewhere softer.Somewhere I don’t have to fight to feel seen.Maybe even with someone new — someone who doesn’t make me question my worth just because I dared to love out loud.For now?I’m breathing through the ache.I’m choosing silence over chasing.And I’m proud of the woman who walked away — and meant it.Because sometimes, losing your head is how you find your spine.— MissT 🖤

This post is a personal reflection based on the author’s lived emotional experience. It is not intended to target or identify any individual.