I was 38 when my partner of seven years — the man I thought I was going to marry — came home and told me that he was in love with someone else.
The months — years, really — that followed were some of the darkest, most terrifying, most painful of my entire life. I truly didn’t think I would physically survive it, let alone recover any semblance of confidence in myself as a sexual being.
Hell, I didn’t think I was even worthy of love — anyone’s — at my lowest.
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But I found my way back to myself. Now, this is what I tell my friends when they find themselves in a similar situation:
Let it happen.
You’re going to be tempted to email, call, or text your ex at every opportunity. Like when the furnace stops working or you realise he left one of his socks in the laundry bin.
Don’t do it. No matter what.
Let me enlighten you to a little bit of knowledge that you aren’t going to believe at the moment: He doesn’t deserve to be in your life. His exit was the biggest blessing that could’ve happened to you.
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