Well, Hello There

November 12, 2025

Today was unexpected.

I thought I could share a personal post for a specific person and quietly take it down, since the site had been almost silent for days.

But something happened—everyone seemed to converge here at once.

I don’t know if it was that post that caught attention and spread,

or if my smiling face on the front page of the paper made you think,

“Oh right, Katherine! I wonder what she’s up to these days.”

I stepped back from this space for a while, partly because of the traffic here.

It had started to feel like people were coming here to find more than my stories of survival, transformation, and philosophical musings.

And, there were signs of obsessive, compulsive monitoring that unsettled me.

So, I stepped away.

I came back online for me. Because this space is important to me, and I no longer feel the pressure to write for a specific audience, track post views, or obsessively analyze my site analytics.

But, because of today’s traffic—and the mix of posts that were read—I need to say this:

The relationship I’ve written about was beautiful, intense, and so special to me.

I loved him deeply and told him so often.

All I wanted to do was please him and be treated lovingly.

Discovering that he had lied and withheld truths while whispering literal words of safety and trust into my head and heart from the start, and that those lies had quietly, systemically abused my trust, my love, my body, and my empathy, was devastating.

I never saw that level of betrayal, abandonment, and abuse coming.

I didn't know how to process my lived reality of my most important relationship exploding within days of my dad dying.

I hope you never have to learn how.

While my story is uniquely mine and beyond extreme in it’s cruelty, I see the patterns and know some of the stories of past relationships that showed me it wasn’t just me—and that he is more than just complicated, he is not emotionally or psychologically healthy.

Near the end, I remember wondering if something deeper was wrong, I legit thought to myself one night “Does he have a personality disorder?” Little did I know how accurate that passing thought would turn out to be.

If you’re reading my words searching for understanding, guidance, or parallels in your story that just don't feel right—please don’t expect my story to mirror yours.

But please, please trust your gut, your questions, and your body’s alarm system.

Last fall, I visited my mom in the hospital after her knee surgery.

We talked about the confusion and hurt I felt in my relationship.

She listened like she always does—fully present, fully loving.

I told her how conflicted and confused I was: how I felt the wrongness in my gut, but still couldn’t leave.

She said, “That’s okay, honey. It’s normal to have conflicting needs.”

She reminded me that I needed to feel valued and prioritized,

and that the good parts of 'us'—the warmth, affection, and promises of safety—were feeding something deeper:

the need to love and be loved, to feel cherished, to have a home and a person I loved and respected to tell about my day.

Her words helped me understand why I stayed,

but deep down I still knew things weren’t okay.

So I paid attention, I noted inconsistencies, I tracked unacceptable behavior, I voiced my needs, and talked with friends and family about what I experienced.

I poured love into myself.

I read about avoidant attachment and narcissism.

I made excuses, ignored the obvious, and kept chasing and fixing—because my core wounds had trained me to.

If I hadn’t learned the full truth of what he did and who he was,

I would have stayed—chasing, begging,

accepting breadcrumbs and calling it a feast.

I would have kept believing every lie he told to my face. Every story that painted him as the victim and the logical, well balanced one.

It took a catastrophic level of heartbreak and truth for me to finally put myself first and walk away. And even now, I still struggle with conflicting thoughts, wants, and needs when it comes to him. This is not easy.

So if you’re confused, searching for light, reading my words like a guidebook and still can’t leave—

that’s okay.

Something in you is getting something it still needs.

If you can figure out what that is, pour love into it, and practice meeting that need yourself with the support of your people

you’ll know what to do, eventually.

You are worthy.

I love you. ❤️