More Than My First True Heartbreak
- Katherine Tatsuda
- Sep 7
- 3 min read
Sept. 7, 2025
I’ve had disappointments.
I’ve had breakups.
I even got divorced.
But none of those prepared me for this.
Because this time—for the first time—
I had loved as my whole self.
I was intentional.
Present.
Open in ways I had never dared before.
I let down every guard I had ever built.
I trusted.
I gave everything.
And I knew I could get hurt.
But I was ready to take the risk.
Because love is always a risk.
And I believed he was worth it.
He worked hard to earn that trust.
He studied me.
He said the right words,
did the right things,
wove a story of safety and longevity
that made me believe I was finally home.
And then, in my greatest time of need,
He chose other people over me.
This wasn’t the first time he had done this.
But this time was different.
My dad had just been hospitalized,
and things were frightening.
I was scared, raw, aching.
And instead of standing with me,
he turned away.
The devastation was unbearable.
So I blocked him.
It was the only way to protect myself,
the only way I could keep breathing.
And because I blocked him—for two days—
he punished me.
With silence. With coldness.
Ultimately, that was the end.
But not cleanly, not kindly.
He declared the relationship broken,
and yet he still wanted to be friends—
to keep access to my light,
without the responsibility of loving me.
I was left reeling—
heartbroken,
confused,
swinging between silence and longing.
I refused his offer of friendship.
I told him to stop texting me.
And still, I could only last about ten days without contact
before the ache pulled me back.
I missed him.
All I wanted was for us to be together again.
And the truth is—before the big explosion,
he hadn’t completely let things go either.
While never telling me he was rekindling,
rebuilding things with another,
he kept me tethered in a half-life—
caught between contact and conversation,
silence and secrets
I didn’t yet know.
That was heartbreak.
But it wasn’t yet the end.
The end came with the detonation.
A nuclear explosion I never saw coming.
One moment, I was clinging to the hope that love still lived between us.
The next, every illusion was vaporized.
The truths fell like fallout, heavy and inescapable.
That his words were selfish and one-sided.
That his gestures were not devotion, but cover.
That his actions when I wasn't looking were disgusting.
That the admiration and respect I felt in being “chosen”
was built on lies.
Lies layered with manipulation.
Lies sharpened by predation.
A life lived between connection and intimacy,
And silence and devastating secrets.
This wasn’t just my first true heartbreak.
Because heartbreak is when love ends.
This was different.
This was nuclear—
when love is revealed to have never existed as you knew it,
and the blast disintegrates the very ground beneath your feet.
And yet—here I stand, less than six months later.
Not totally healed.
But free.
And my newly evolved self sets
galaxies aflame with cheerful determination.
And my heart is preparing for
My true, great love story.
