Over the last 12–18 months, I was engaged to a man I deeply loved and had envisioned a future with. But our relationship slowly began to unravel in painful, traumatic ways. It became emotionally damaging, and at times, crossed into abusive territory. Including an incident of physical violence that left me with lasting emotional scars. I have tried everything to hold on. I have communicated, compromised, supported my then fiancé’s dreams, and even justified the harm being done, both to myself and to others because I loved him that much. But instead of my vulnerability being met with accountability or care, I was shut out, criticized, and made to feel like I was the problem. After returning from a traumatic experience overseas, where I nearly died, I came back changed. Raw, scared, and needing comfort. But my then fiancé told me to “get over it.” That moment stuck with me, and the pain of being emotionally abandoned in my time of need has not gone away. Even as our relationship became more fractured, I held on. Continuing to defend my then fiancé, even to those who said, “This isn’t okay.” But eventually, my fiancé broke up with me, two weeks ago. And even after ending the engagement, my ex fiancé began sending messages that were accusatory and hurtful. Blaming me for the breakdown of the relationship, accusing me of “talking shit” behind his back, and demanding explanations for things that weren’t true. It became clear that rather than taking responsibility, my ex was more concerned with his own reputation. In the aftermath, I confided in a close mutual friend. Someone I believed was a neutral and safe place. But this friend broke that trust, sharing vulnerable conversations with my ex fiancé and worsening the tension. That betrayal cut me deeply. It felt like being hurt all over again, like no space was truly safe. So I chose to set a boundary, deciding not to bring this friend when collecting my belongings, and instead asked someone else. A longtime friend and ex-coworker who is a true emotional support, to come with me. Even with this plan, I still fear how I’ll be perceived. I’m worried I’ll appear “messy,” like the pain of the last few weeks will be visible on my face. Because it has been brutal, being abandoned again, misunderstood again, and made to feel like my trauma is my fault. I’ve also admitted that in my darkest moments, I’ve questioned whether surviving that traumatic experience overseas was worth it. That maybe it would’ve been easier not to come back. I feel lost. Like everything I thought I could count on has fallen apart. I don’t know what to live for, or how to believe I’m still worthy of love and safety after being hurt so deeply.

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