final let go

“The Final Let-Go”
Written by MissT

I thought I let go of him in April.
I thought I let go again 8 days ago.
But there’s a difference between letting go and being done.

Today, I felt the fall — the ache that drags you backwards, the heartbreak that begs for a different ending. I cried. I doubted myself. I wanted answers that won’t come. But beneath all that pain is something solid, something quiet but unshakeable:

I was always real.

He said he cut me off to stop me “going on at him.”
He said I blamed him.
He said a lot of things that don’t hold water when you look too closely.

What I actually did?
I asked for honesty.
I reacted to deceit.
I called out the lies.
And I sent a final email, one that bled every truth I was tired of hiding from.

And still, I tried to salvage a friendship. Still, I reached for closure.
Because that’s who I am — I don’t ghost. I don’t pretend. I face it.

But what I’ve learned now, after six years of standing in his storm, is this:

Some people aren’t capable of meeting you in the light.

He’s protected — by his bipolar diagnosis, by a family who enables rather than expects, by the convenient silence that accountability never enters.

And maybe it’s true.
Maybe he really isn’t capable of honesty.
Maybe emotional growth is a language he’s never had to learn.

But that’s not my burden anymore.

I can’t keep breaking myself to understand someone who refuses to be understood.

What hurts is knowing how real I was — how steady I stayed — how long I held on.
What heals is knowing that no man-boy, no coward in grown-up clothes, no lie-draped silence is going to rewrite my story.

My narrative is mine. And in it, I survive. I rise. I write.

Goodbye isn’t weak.
It’s brave.
And this time… it’s final.

—
MissT
divorceddamagedanddangerous.wordpress.com

This post is a personal reflection based on the author’s lived experience. It is not intended to diagnose, defame, or harm any individual.