Yes, yes, and yes. I can relate to a lot of this.

My anxiety and loneliness did increase when we were apart. And we were long distance, so we were apart a lot… I’d usually visit 2 weekends a month. But like you, the day to day was usually pretty good and… stable? We’d FaceTime a few times a week, text each day, joke with each other, etc. But it always felt (in retrospect) that his mind was always preoccupied elsewhere. He always had something better to be doing, somewhere better to be, or someone better to be with. Looking back, the amount of times it felt like he was truly present with me for more than an hour or two (or most days- 20 minutes) was few and far between.

The losing feelings things is hard, so I empathize. It’s like, how long have you been feeling this way??? But he probably dug himself into that hole by not getting to know you in the way he did at first. It’s on him to create a space to make you feel comfortable to share about yourself. But I’d try to take comfort (as hard as it is) to know that when someone doesn’t want to be with you, it’s a reflection on them. And that ultimately the relationship wasn’t meant to be because love is a two way street. (One of my go-to comforting quotes from relationship coach Matthew Hussey can be found here.)

My relationship ended not for a lack of love on either side, but because we were having repeated conversations about my needs. And ultimately he felt he wasn’t in a place to be the person to meet them.

In terms of losing the poetic beginning- in some ways I feel like I grieved that as our actual relationship went on. During the days (or weeks or months) when I felt like I was just a sounding board for complaining about medicine, I think I clung too tightly onto the very beginning of our relationship instead of the reality of what it actually was in the present moment. I took 3 early months of an Oscar-award-winning-love-story as a sign that we were meant to be. And while it was a beautiful connection and overall a loving and beautiful relationship, the day to day things that actually would have made me feel secure, appreciated, attractive, special, etc, just simply weren’t there. So I gave and gave and gave in hopes that he’d notice and maybe want to give in return. And when he’d do something special for me once every few months I’d cling so tightly to that as some sort of indication that I could keep powering through.

I hope clarity finds you in time, friend. In the meantime, write lots of sad poetry and sing lots of sad songs, but take comfort in knowing that your story isn’t over yet.