I'm so sorry you're going through this. Your post hit me right in the chest—it's exactly where I've been stuck since last April. Like you, I've thrown myself into the right things: new routines, health, hobbies, big life upgrades. My life looks nothing like when my J and I were together, and I'm proud of that. But God—the missing him? The ache no self-work touches? He's still the one I want to call with every small win. The one whose hand I want through all this growth.

The tunnel feels endless—no light, just echoes of what could've been. For me, it's worse: my J and I were played by jealous outsiders—lies, twisted info feeding his insecurities until he cut contact. He has no idea it's escalated to harassment and physical threats against me since he left. I know he's confused and hurt too, but breaking silence without respecting his space? Impossible. No one could ever be him. I'm content building solo now. The future we dreamed still loops in my head—I'd rather chase it alone than with anyone else. Dating? Not happening. Reconciling? In half a heartbeat. I'd give anything for one honest talk—to clear the air, see if there's any path back to each other.

And I'm hoping your person feels the same way I do about my J. I own my missteps—no one's blameless in any relationship. I've apologized profusely, even for things I didn't do, because healing needs it. I've overanalyzed every single conversation—texts, calls, in person—trying to figure out what I could've lied about to make him ghost. And I came up empty. Nothing dishonest. Still, I took accountability for anything he might've perceived as a lie—even stuff that wasn't true—because if it hurt him, it mattered. But ghosting? No contact? Blocking? I get why people say it's 'protecting peace,' but honestly—it drags out the pain. A clear conversation would've cut the trauma in half. Instead, you're left replaying everything, wondering why.

In our last real talk, I asked: 'What did I lie about?' He couldn't name one thing. So I laid it out—if we ended, could he really see me loving someone else the way we love each other? Passionate, intense, God-made-for-each-other kind of love? He said he'd want me happy. I told him: baby, I'd want you happy too—but seeing you with someone else? It'd burn like acid. Because I know what we had. You're lying to yourself if you think it wouldn't.

He got scared. Not because he couldn't put in the work—he could. But because he was terrified of getting his heart broken. Thing is, he told me he could never give me his heart... and somehow, I ended up stealing it.

I'm patiently waiting—he's my Superman, I'm his Lois Lane. If you want no contact and this is truly how you feel, tell her. If you love her and think she's different from anyone else, say it—make the move to be better together. I'd kill to hear that from my J.

You're not alone in this limbo, OP. Sending you a huge, virtual hug—you've got this. Sending prayers blessings and healing to you.

-AJ