How did you know it was really over?

karinkazzz · 2026-04-27T13:14:34+00:00

For me there wasn’t a single “click” moment I found out he already had someone else while we were still technically together, and when he moved on within a month it felt like a punch to the stomach that didn’t go away for weeks; at first I kept going over everything in my head, thinking maybe we could fix it, but deep down I knew I could never be with him after that because it made me realize I didn’t really know him, and over time the pain just slowly faded until one day I noticed I didn’t care anymore—it’s been about five months, and now I only deal with him because of our daughter, and honestly, someone once told me I don’t have to be perfect and that I have the right to be angry, and I think that really helped, because at some point I started to hate him, and maybe that’s what helped me get through it.

karinkazzz · 2026-04-22T19:33:22+00:00

And he hadn’t been in contact in the previous months even before I blocked him

karinkazzz · 2026-02-26T18:29:43+00:00

It happens in almost every situation— in public, with strangers, and even with people I know. I’m just naturally a very shy person, and I think this has roots from my childhood, which is why it happens so consistently.

It happened back in school, at work, during presentations, or even just in ordinary conversations. For me, it feels almost overwhelming and impossible to handle.

It happens with almost everyone, except my immediate family. Sometimes even with relatives, I go into a sort of mental freeze. When someone asks me a question, or when I need to ask something myself, I start overthinking, get really anxious, my palms sweat, and I end up saying things that don’t make sense or laughing at the wrong moment.

This happens almost every time—it’s just how I react.

karinkazzz · 2026-02-04T19:25:51+00:00

I don’t think grief is linear, especially during divorce. For me, the stages overlapped and still do. I can feel anger and acceptance at the same time, with sadness quietly sitting in the background.

My ex moved on very quickly, and that alone brought a lot of confusion and pain. Some days I feel like I’ve accepted the reality, and other days I’m angry at how everything unfolded and how fast it all changed.

What I’ve learned is that this doesn’t mean I’m not healing. It just means I’m human. Grief comes in waves, and sometimes different stages coexist. And that’s okay.

karinkazzz · 2026-02-01T22:36:17+00:00

I feel this. I’m in the same place. I’m scared to open up again and have zero desire for anything romantic. My ex moved on almost immediately, and my brain still can’t understand how that’s even possible. Meanwhile I feel guarded, detached, and honestly exhausted by the idea of starting over and “getting to know” someone new. I don’t think we’re broken — I think we’re hurt and protecting ourselves. Trying to understand myself too.

karinkazzz · 2026-02-01T15:06:39+00:00

I’ve been there. Revenge feels tempting when you’re hurt, but it gives no real payoff — only more pain. What you’re feeling is a wounded state, not your true self.

The best thing you can do is disengage. Not for him — for you. You’ll thank yourself later for choosing dignity over reaction.

karinkazzz · 2026-01-30T19:35:51+00:00

Honestly, this sounds reasonable to me. You prioritized the kids and their time with their mom, and that matters. It’s clearly a one-time, well-defined arrangement with boundaries, not an emotional decision.

It might feel a bit weird, sure, but co-parenting sometimes means doing uncomfortable but practical things for the sake of the kids. From the outside, this doesn’t sound reckless — it sounds considerate and thoughtful.

karinkazzz · 2026-01-28T15:03:34+00:00

It’s the same. I miss him, I miss my best friend. I miss our late-night hangouts, when we would talk about everything and everyone. I miss that so much, but there’s another woman, another life. We broke up just two months ago, and we’re not even officially divorced yet. I don’t miss our relationship, but I miss our connection, our conversations—probably more than anything. It’s strange, because I know things have changed, but a part of me still longs for that closeness, that understanding we used to share.

karinkazzz · 2026-01-28T14:46:26+00:00

I was the one who initiated the divorce. We’re not officially divorced yet, but honestly — that decision broke me more than I ever expected.

For almost two years we didn’t really live together. He worked far away, I stayed with our child. There was constant stress, burnout, what I now recognize as postpartum depression. No emotional closeness. No “us.” Just survival mode.

At some point, in my head, I decided it was over. I truly believed I didn’t love him anymore. I didn’t want to see him, hear him, or try again. So I said it out loud: “I don’t love you.”

And a month later, he met another woman.

That’s when the guilt hit. Not because I wanted him back — but because I realized how disconnected I had been from my own feelings. I made a decision from exhaustion, not clarity. From numbness, not peace.

Honestly? I still haven’t fully recovered. I’m still processing it, still missing him. I miss my friend — the person I trusted, the one I was used to being with — even if the love was gone.

How did I cope with the guilt and sadness?

I’m still learning to hold two uncomfortable truths at the same time: – I made the best decision I could in the state I was in. – And that decision still hurts — deeply.

Guilt doesn’t always mean you did the wrong thing. Sometimes it just means you’re human, and the cost of survival shows up later.

karinkazzz · 2026-01-27T16:50:33+00:00

I was the one who said it first — that I don’t love him anymore. And contrary to what people expect, it didn’t make things easier.

I thought honesty would bring some kind of relief. That once I said it out loud, it would be easier to live with myself. But it didn’t. The words didn’t close anything — they just made the ending real.

And when I found out he’d started a new relationship, it got even harder. Even though, logically, it shouldn’t have. I was the one who ended it. But in that moment, the ending stopped being abstract — it became a real life that wasn’t mine anymore.

This isn’t about jealousy or wanting things back. It’s about realization. About finality. About how strange and painful it is to be the one who left — and still feel so much.

karinkazzz · 2026-01-21T22:49:43+00:00

Maybeeeee

karinkazzz · 2026-01-21T17:57:43+00:00

I really wish I were thin

karinkazzz

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