The Moment, I Finally Chose Myself

Blog Series - The Truths No One Wants to Say Out Loud

What I Missed, What Broke Me, and Why I Never Went Back

People ask questions like they have simple answers.

What’s something you miss but know you can’t go back to?
Have you ever gone back and regretted it?
What helped you finally choose yourself?
Be honest what do you actually miss?

For me, those answers were never simple.

They were years of confusion, hope, pain, denial, and finally truth.

This is my reflection.

What I miss but could never go back to

There were moments when things felt good.

That’s the part people don’t always understand.

It wasn’t all bad, and maybe that’s what made it harder to leave.

I remember the music.
The concerts.
The family time.
The ordinary moments that made everything feel normal for a little while.

Those were the moments that made me believe maybe it could work.
Maybe this time would be different.
Maybe love was somewhere in there after all.

And when things were good, they could feel really good.

Good enough to make you doubt your own pain.
Good enough to make you forget what happened the week before.
Good enough to keep you holding on.

But there were also moments that completely destroyed me.

The kind of moments that don’t just hurt you in the moment—
they change how you see yourself.

And that was the part I kept trying not to look at.

Yes, I went back and yes, I regretted it

I was the one going back and forward like a damn yo-yo.

Leave.
Go back.
Promise myself I was done.
Then go back again.

Every single time, it ended in regret.

Not always straight away.
Sometimes regret came quietly.

A look.
A tone.
A familiar knot in my stomach.

That feeling of knowing I had walked straight back into the same fire and hoped not to get burned.

It didn’t matter how many times they cheated.
It didn’t matter how many times I was yelled at.
It didn’t matter how many times I was made to feel worthless.

It didn’t matter how many times I lost another piece of property.
Or another piece of myself.

That’s the part people don’t always talk about.

How abuse doesn’t always happen in one dramatic moment.
Sometimes it happens in layers.

A little dignity here.
A little peace there.
A little more of yourself gone every time you stay.

This is reality for so many people.

And when you’re in it, it’s not always obvious.

Sometimes it just feels like hope.
Sometimes it feels like love.
Sometimes it feels like trying harder will finally make it different.

But it doesn’t.

What finally made me choose myself

Being assaulted was my breaking point.

There’s no softer way to say it.

That was the moment I knew I was done being treated like this.

It was my third relationship.

Different person.
Same patterns.
Same behaviours.
Same chaos.
Same loop.

At some point I had to stop pretending it was bad luck.

It was a pattern.

And I was trapped inside it.

By then, my body was already in crisis.

I was told that if I didn’t leave, it would end me.

That hit differently.

Because suddenly this wasn’t just emotional pain.
It wasn’t just another bad relationship.
It wasn’t just heartbreak.

My body was telling the truth I had spent too long trying to ignore.

And that was the moment something became clear:

This is not what love should feel like.

Love should not make your body shut down.
Love should not make you afraid.
Love should not leave you constantly surviving.

I knew there had to be more to life than this.

Not another version of the same cycle.

Something better.
Something quieter.
Something safer.

Even if I had no idea what that looked like yet.

What do I actually miss?

Five years later, I can answer honestly.

I miss nothing.

Not one of those people.

And that answer used to surprise me.

Because I thought I would always miss something.

A song.
A memory.
A version of who I thought they were.

But time has a way of clearing the fog.

What I thought I missed wasn’t them.

It was the hope.
The potential.
The fantasy of what I wanted it to be.

But when I look at it clearly now, I don’t miss the chaos.
I don’t miss the confusion.
I don’t miss who I became trying to survive it.

Because somewhere in all that pain, I found myself.

Amongst the broken pieces.

Not instantly.
Not perfectly.
But slowly.

I found strength I didn’t know I had.
I found boundaries.
I found peace.
I found the version of me that no longer confuses pain with love.

And that was worth more than anything I left behind.

My truth now

I kept going back until it nearly destroyed me.

Same patterns. Different person. Same outcome.

I didn’t leave because I stopped loving them.
I left because it was ending me.

This wasn’t love.
It was survival.

I lost pieces of myself trying to keep them.

But my breaking point became my turning point.

And five years later, I don’t miss them.

I found myself instead.

And healing started the moment I stopped going back.

Reflection

If you’re reading this and you’re still in the middle of your own back-and-forth, ask yourself honestly:

What are you actually holding onto?

The person?
Or the moments that made you believe it could be different?

What has staying cost you?

And how much more of yourself are you willing to lose trying to save something that keeps breaking you?

Sometimes the bravest thing you’ll ever do
is stop going back.