I Was Bleeding Truth & Craving Comfort | A Look Back

I don’t like to focus on the past, but I have to honor how far I’ve come.

September 17, 2025

There was a moment,

maybe several,

when I didn’t know how I was going to survive it.

Not the breakup,

but the knowing.

The clarity.

The violent explosion of realizing the person I loved deeply, fully

had never truly been who he said he was.

I was bleeding truth.

And craving comfort.

⸻

You can’t explain that to people who haven’t lived it.

How it feels to sit there,

still wrapped in his scent,

still wearing the jewelry he gave you,

still remembering the nights of friendship and deep, intimate connection,

while also knowing

he was lying.

Lying to your face.

Lying with his body.

Lying while you gave him your soul.

And when the truth came,

it didn’t knock.

It shattered.

⸻

I was bleeding truth.

Truth I didn’t ask for.

Truth I wasn’t ready for.

Truth that screamed through my nervous system like a siren I couldn’t silence.

And still,

I wanted comfort, safety, warmth—

His love.

I wanted to hear “You’re wrong.”

I wanted him to say “Let me explain.”

I wanted there to be a version of this story where he wasn’t cruel, just confused.

I wanted to be held by the very arms that betrayed me repeatedly, from the very beginning.

That is what a trauma bond does.

It makes you crave the poison even after you’ve seen the label.

It makes you ache for the person who made you bleed.

⸻

But I didn’t go back.

Not because I didn’t want to.

But because I finally knew what it would cost me.

And I was done bleeding for someone who would never stop cutting.

So I stayed with the truth.

And it burned.

And it howled.

And it threatened to unravel me.

But it also made me whole.

⸻

Looking back now, I see her,

the version of me who had just discovered the truth.

She was shaking.

She was sobbing in parking lots.

She was staring at texts that used to mean everything

and wondering if any of it had ever been real.

She didn’t feel strong.

She didn’t feel wise.

She didn’t feel brave.

But she was.

Because she didn’t chase him.

She didn’t beg.

She didn’t stay small.

She didn’t lie to herself just to feel loved again.

She bled truth.

And she kept walking.

⸻

It was never about getting over him.

It was about coming back to me.

To the woman who doesn’t settle for crumbs.

To the woman who knows what safety feels like now.

To the woman who can sit with her own ache

without numbing it with fantasy, sex, attention, or false hope.

To the woman who knows

that comfort built on lies

is just another form of self-abandonment.

⸻

I don’t crave him anymore.

I don’t crave the comfort I used to beg for.

Because now I know:

Comfort isn’t peace when it costs you your truth.

And truth, when held with love, becomes its own comfort.

⸻

So yes,

I was bleeding truth and craving comfort.

But now?

I’m living truth.

And I am the comfort.

I am the warmth and safety.

And that has changed everything.